The Allure of Darkness
by LoveMyRomance
Summary: Sequel to "Dark Prince". Tensions start to rise and loyalties are tested as Hadrian, formerly known as Harry Potter, delves deeper into the Dark side and sells his soul to the devil. Hadrian Riddle, heir to the Dark Lord himself, is about the become the most terrifying thing the Wizarding world has seen. Just you wait. Rated T for torture [Will cover Yrs 3-4]. In Progress.
1. Prisoner

**Disclaimer: I don't own HP. JK Rowling owns Harry Potter**

 **Riddle Manor [August 10** **th** **]**

Hadrian Riddle passed through the halls of Riddle Manor, dragging his feet and digging his heels into the expensive marble floors. This was _not_ a conversation he wanted to have with his father, not now, not ever. Despite knowing that the Dark Lord was not a patient man, Hadrian intentionally took the long route across the massive estate, purposely doing all he could do delay the meeting.

When he crossed through the entrance to his father's wing, Hadrian Riddle stopped in his tracks. He could _feel_ the dark magic nearly suffocating him the minute he stepped through the wards. His father wasn't simply angry. He was _furious_.

Hadrian considered his chances of turning and trying to floo back to the Lestrange Estate, where he had been hiding out for the summer. He even took a step back; only to run into the ward his father had put up once more to keep intruders out.

 _Or perhaps to trap him in._

The thought caused Hadrian to stiffen in undeniable fear. Shaking his head, he decided he really had no choice other than to answer to his father's summon. Sucking in a shaky breath, Hadrian forced himself to control his outward appearance. His father was already in a bad mood. Cowering in fear would only cause his father to become more enraged.

He reached his fist up to knock on the doors to his father's personal study. When the doors did not immediately open, Hadrian grew steadily more worried. Steeling his shoulders back, he straightened his cowering posture and pushed open the all too familiar double doors.

"Hadrian." His father greeted from the chair behind the impressive desk that was facing the window. Hadrian attempted to decipher his father's already blank expression, but the shadows from the window made it nearly impossible to tell what his father was thinking. "Sit."

It was a command, not a suggestion.

Hadrian hastened to throw himself into the stiff chair facing his father's desk, all the while trying to appear unfazed by the terrifying man in front of him. Hadrian fought to still the tremor that threatened to run through his entire body. He could nearly feel the crackling magical energy surrounding his father. Oh yes, the man was _enraged._

There was a long moment of silence–long enough for Hadrian to nearly quiver in fear of what was to come–and then his father spoke.

"You…" he began quietly, "have murdered a part of my soul. You attempted to _hide_ the fact that you destroyed part of my immortality. And in the process of this…conspiracy… you have ruined about seven of my future plans." The Dark Lord turned around slowly in his chair, staring at Hadrian with a deceptively calm expression. "What do you have to say for yourself?"

Hadrian Riddle was not fooled by his father's bland expression. Though Lord Voldemort's voice was hardly above a whisper, Hadrian could easily detect the simmering rage that boiled just barely underneath his seemingly composed tone.

"Hadrian?" His father inquired sharply.

He winced, his gaze never straying from the dark marble floor. "Er… I'm sorry?"

It was apparently, _not_ the right thing to say.

"Crucio." His father spoke, rising up from his desk to watch his son fall to the floor in silent screams.

Hadrian dug his nails into the cold floor, feeling the intense pain of his father's favorite curse–after the classic killing curse, of course– press into his body. He felt like the walls were closing in on him, and his vision became blurred with tinges of red. He closed his eyes, refusing to scream aloud; he knew screaming would only incite his father into increasing the intensity of the curse.

"You were simply instructed to open up the Chamber of Secrets, and command the basilisk to finish what I started back in _my_ sixth year. But you decided to entrust such an honorable responsibility unto a first year, a filthy _Weasley_." His father sniffed in apparent disgust, but thankfully lifted the curse. He hissed, "What have I always told you?"

Hadrian gasped for air, and stumbled over his words, his mouth feeling like cotton. "I-I-If you want s-something done, do it yours-self." He forced out, pushing himself off the ground into a sitting position with an immense amount of effort.

"And yet, you let a Weasley open Slytherin's Chamber. She may be in Slytherin, but she'll never be a _true_ Slytherin. I simply don't understand how it would even cross your mind to do such a thing." Lord Voldemort continued on with his berating.

"You also forgot to mention the fact that the basilisk only obeys its _true_ master, which is still you." Hadrian spit out, wiping a drop of blood that had appeared on his lips. "I could've died!"

His father cocked his head to the side and appraised him silently. "You're still here, aren't you?" He pointed out. A flicker of rage crossed his face and he hissed, "Yet, a part of _my_ soul seems to have been destroyed."

Hadrian sighed resignedly as his father lifted his wand and uttered "Crucio."

He thought he would be prepared for the sudden onslaught of pain–now that he was used to it–but his father seemed to have become angrier as time passed, and the curse felt stronger than before.

Hadrian could feel his eyes sting with unshed tears, but he refused to let his father gain any satisfaction from his punishment. He knew the torture curse was more often used to break the victim, to humiliate them, to destroy them internally. The pain was merely the quickest way to achieve the result. No, he wouldn't let his father feel any gratification over this.

"All these years of work, all this research to create the memory I implanted into that diary…wasted. I had to split a part of my _soul_ for that diary. And you have the audacity to tell me that it's destroyed?"

His father didn't wait for an answer, his eyes flashing a murderous shade of red before hissing the torture curse again.

Hadrian felt as if his insides were being torn apart, twisted and stabbed hundreds of times. He gasped for air, but his throat closed up. His eyes watered and his face was slick with a sheen sweat. His knuckles were white from clenching is hands into a fist, and his palms were bleeding from the desperate way his nails dug into his hand. He cracked open an eye, and spit out- his tongue bleeding from where he'd bit it so hard to keep from crying out-

"Are we going to ignore the fact that your memory-soul-whatever it was- tried to _kill me_?"

His father shrugged unconcernedly and leaned against his desk, dropping the curse to cross his arms across his chest. "Technically, my _past_ self tried to kill you. Not me. And let me point out, you were the one who killed _him_."

Hadrian–too relieved that his father had finally stopped cursing the living daylights out of him–rambled sarcastically, "Technically, since it was last month, it was _my past self_ that killed your _past self_. By that logic, why are you cursing my current-future self for something my past self did?"

His father's eye twitched. Hadrian closed his eyes again, bracing himself again for the curse to fall from his father's lips.

It never came.

Instead, just as Lord Voldemort was about to raise his wand and curse the insolent brat till he bled out on the floor, the door to his personal study burst open. His head–and wand– snapped up to greet the intruder, annoyed at the interruption of the _wonderful_ father-son moment.

Lucius Malfoy stood uncomfortable in the doorway, pale blond hair in a disarray as if he had ran all the way there. His pale grey gaze brushed over Hadrian awkwardly, refusing to settle on the less than respectable state the boy was in. Hadrian's already red face flushed with more humiliation at the thought of him lying weakened and broken on the floor at the foot of his father's robes.

"Uh, pardon the interruption, my lord, but we have an emergency." Lucius Malfoy muttered, looking down at his feet.

Lord Voldemort's eyes narrowed into a serpentine slit, and his voice was dark and full of warning as he hissed, "Well, spit it out, Malfoy."

"The negotiations at Wiltshire…My lord, they didn't go very well."

Voldemort's expression darkened, and he prompted his follower to continue.

"Well, we took our highest ranking men as you requested. But the mudbloods guarding the Wiltshire safe house, well, they didn't take too kindly to the idea that their fellow guards were willing to trade the safety of their community for information on the Order." Lucius winced, as if he were afraid his lord would curse him at any moment.

Judging from the way he himself was sprawled on the floor, Hadrian did not think that was a terrible conclusion.

"What happened, Lucius?" His father inquired threateningly.

"They–the mudbloods– the Aurors came, my lord. There were almost a hundred of them. We don't understand how the mudbloods could've called them; it must've been someone in the town that tipped them off. The Aurors overpowered us by almost seventy men. They were ready to fight." Lucius rushed out.

"Lucius…" The Dark Lord hissed, "What happened?"

"My lord, Bellatrix managed to kill a handful of the mudbloods and Aurors before they approached, but there were too many. I managed to grab Nott, Avery, Rosier, and Rodolphus, and escape before they swarmed the city."

His father pinched the bridge of his nose, and his eyes turned a terrifying shade of blood red, "The casualties, Malfoy?"

"Almost ten of our men were killed, though we haven't identified them yet, since I came to inform you as soon as I arrived. But my lord…" Lucius winced, as if preparing himself for his next words, "Bellatrix Lestrange, Barty, Rabastan Lestrange, Mulciber, Travers, and who knows who else… they were all magically restrained and are currently being held in a cell in Azkaban. My sources tell me the Aurors rounded up anyone with a dark mark and placed them in Azkaban." Lucius muttered, his head hung low.

Hadrian glanced up, an action which took far more effort than he anticipated, and observed his father's expression. While his father's expression remained blank, and devoid of all emotion, Hadrian could tell his eyes held a strange, unsurprised gleam. It was almost as if his father expected his followers to mess up.

"Lucius–Prepare the second rank and meet me in front of Azkaban in exactly twenty-four hours. And Hadrian… get up." His father said sharply.

Hadrian groaned from the floor, his muscles aching too much to do anything other than grunt out a muffled, "Kind of hard to get up when you're almost dead."

Lucius raised an eyebrow, his slightly panicked gaze darting across the room in an effort not to look at the Dark Lord or his son. "I-I don't think I understand."

Voldemort sighed, "What part of 'prepare the second rank followers and meet me at Azkaban in twenty-four hours' do you not seem to understand?"

Lucius flinched, "If you will permit me to ask, my lord, why?"

His father let out another loud sigh, seemingly disappointed in his most loyal follower for missing the obvious. "We're going to break our fellow men–and women– out of that despicable prison. Keep up, Lucius."

"Pardon me, my lord. But did you say we were going to break prisoners out of Azkaban?"

The Dark Lord seemed amused at Malfoy's befuddled expression, not even bothering to deem his question with a response. He walked toward the doors, gesturing for Lucius to follow. Voldemort's robes brushed over Hadrian's back as he stepped over his son on his way to the door.

"Hadrian, prepare yourself by this time tomorrow. You'll be joining us."

Hadrian simply rolled over onto his stomach with a painful moan in response.

 **Azkaban Prison [August 11st]**

Bellatrix Lestrange was thrown into her cell–with quite an unnecessary amount of force, if she were to judge–and just barely braced herself when her body collided with the jagged stone floor. _Really, they couldn't even have leveled the floor of the cell since her last visit?_

"Maybe next time you'll talk." The guard hissed, slamming the cell door in her face. Bellatrix smiled wickedly through her pain and spit onto the guard's face in disgust.

He growled and tried to grab her, but she backed up against the opposite wall of her small cell. She chuckled darkly as he cursed angrily when he ran into the magical barrier; everyone knew once the cell doors were closed in Azkaban, the wards went up and no one but the assigned head warden could open the cell once more.

When he was finally gone, Bellatrix let go of the hands clutching her abdomen and allowed herself to assess the damage. _Torture was not new to her, but it didn't mean she couldn't feel pain, dammit!_

She hissed softly when her fingers brushed against a particularly rough spot, noticing the nasty hex that sliced through her ribs, which–oh dear, it seemed to be getting infected already. Her knees felt weak and she collapsed against the wall, groaning loudly at the particularly rough stone that stuck out and dug into her back.

This had been the third time they had dragged her out of her cell, only to torture her for any information. They were restricted to no unforgivable curses, but that certainly hadn't stopped them from nearly carving her like a turkey when they didn't get the information they needed. She could say with pride that she had one of the highest pain tolerances she knew, but honestly, they didn't have to go and _abuse_ that.

She noticed her robes stuck to her with something heavier than sweat, and she rolled her eyes as she remembered the blood that coated nearly her entire body. When the carving into her skin hadn't worked, they'd resorted to spells that made her loose blood and magically whipped her with all too powerful stinging spells.

 _Perhaps saying, "Sweetheart, you're only turning me on" to the interrogator wizards was not such a bright idea._

She bit her tongue when she noticed the deep hole in her left thigh that was bleeding profusely where the guard had driven in a knife when she refused to talk the second, and third time. She predicted he'd do it again when she wouldn't reveal anything the next few times. Bellatrix wasn't very vain–after all, who knew how long it had been when she last brushed her hair–but she didn't fancy any more scars on her person.

"You should just tell them what you know." A voice spoke from the cell across from hers. "They won't stop, otherwise."

She made her way over to the front of her cell to see the man better. He had clearly been her for a while, since his hair was long and matted against his forehead, and his robes were ragged and crusted with dirt and filth.

Bellatrix smirked, "It's not my first time, but thanks for the tip. Why are you in here?"

The man looked up then, and Bellatrix smothered a gasp at the familiar face. The face that had once been joyous and filled with life was hardened and hollowed with years of torture. His voice was hoarse and rough, unlike the roguish intonation it had held before. But Bellatrix gripped the cell bars in her hands at the staggering difference she could see in the flickering dim light of the narrow hall: his dark eyes were devoid of any life, as if a dementor had stolen all the light out of them.

"You." She breathed out, watching the man like a hawk. "How did you–"

"Hello, Bellatrix." He sighed tiredly, leaning his forehead against his cell walls and holding himself up with the support of the cell bars. "Never thought I'd see the day when we were _both_ in here."

"What did they _do_ to you?" She whispered, shivering in horror at the very thought.

"I don't think you'd want to know." He cocked his head to his side, eying her wearily. "Why are you even conversing with me?" His face took on a bitter expression as he spit out, "Aren't I just a filthy blood traitor to you?"

Bellatrix shrugged, "I never said you _weren't_ a filthy blood traitor."

His lips twitched, and Bellatrix suspected this was the first sort of humor the man had felt in years. The mere motion seemed unfamiliar to him.

"Why are you in here?" He asked.

She shrugged, "Got into a fight."

"That landed you in Azkaban?"

Bellatrix cackled, "I might have disemboweled a couple Aurors in the process."

He shook his head in disapproval, "So clearly you've been up to the same… mischief."

She laughed then, despite the piecing pain she felt in her side when her body moved, "Mischief? Is that what we're calling it?"

He began to reply, but suddenly there was a resounding _BANG_ that nearly shook the entire prison itself. Bellatrix felt the rocks above her head begin to rain down on her, and she winced as a rather large boulder grazed her head on the way down. She quickly dove to the side of her cell, bracing herself against the rocks that rained down in a flurry of dust and debris. Her entire body ached, and she could almost see the trail of blood she left in her haste to get out of the way. She covered her head with her arms, briefly registering that if the rocks were falling _into_ her cell, then surely the wards protecting her cell were down.

She could feel the ground beneath her nearly shake, and her chest heaved in a combination of fear, nausea, pain, and anticipation. Despite her conflicting emotions, she felt a wicked smirk appear on her face. _Thank Merlin! She would not wait another day in this wretched cell._ _Really, five years was enough the last time_.

When she removed her arms that were protecting her head from damage– _further_ damage, that is–her eyes widened at the sight.

Azkaban Prison, protected by swarms of dementors and guards and some of the best Aurors of their times, the supposedly unbreakable prison…the high security cells that were guarded by wardens and several layers of magical wards and offensive traps to deter any potential escapers…

She let out a sound of twisted delight at the massive damage that had happened to the prison walls. The side of the entire prison was blown apart to bits, and Bellatrix laughed maniacally as she stepped to the very edge of her cell and felt the rain on her skin and the wind whipping her curls to the side. She could see the sea crashing around the prison below, and there was still a combination of dust and mist in the air around her.

 _She was free_.

In that moment, she made a split second decision.

Knowing she wouldn't have much time, she quickly turned around and ran back into the prison. She could barely see, for the entire corridor of cells was swathed in a flashing red light, and a loud siren could be heard resonating from somewhere.

"Get up, I'm getting you out of here." She hissed, grabbing onto the man's arm before he could protest. "You've been here for long enough."

The man, who was barely even conscious, merely focused his gaze on her and asked quietly, "Why are you doing this?"

Bellatrix rolled her eyes at his dramatics. This was clearly not the time. Her arms looped around his torso, and she began to lead him towards the blasted apart side of the building for them to exit. "Well, I'm not staying here. I have a daughter and husband at home now." She muttered. Bellatrix quite literally had to drag him to the edge of the building, despite the inconceivable amount of pain that enveloped her entire body and blurred her vision with every step she took.

She noticed several familiar Death Eaters flying about on brooms, and she quickly swung her free arm around and shouted until she caught the attention of one.

"I meant why are you helping me? You hate me." The man insisted, embarrassedly leaning against Bellatrix since his legs were not strong enough to even hold his malnourished weight.

Bellatrix sighed in relief as two Death Eaters approached them, each on their own broom. One of them eyed the raggedy man at her side and hissed, "Bellatrix, who is this and why are we helping him?"

Bellatrix sneered, and pushed the man she was supporting onto one of the brooms. "Shut up, Dolohov. I said we're helping him and that's final."

"But why?" The grown Death Eater almost whined, glaring at the scrawny man with clear disgust.

"I'd like to know that too." The former prisoner seconded, gripping the broom handle despite his protests.

Bellatrix sighed heavily, climbing onto the broom behind the second Death Eater that was waiting patiently for her. She held onto the broom tightly and said with hardened a conviction, "toujours Pur, darling. We never leave behind one of our own."

 **Riddle Manor [August 11th]**

Hadrian Riddle paced across the hardwood floor in front of his father's personal study. The doors were charmed shut, and his father had gone inside earlier with a few of his closest followers to discuss further plans. Despite the hopeful look Hadrian had given his father, the man had not allowed him inside of the room. Hadrian had attempted to enter anyways, but then the protective ward encasing the doors had blasted him across the hall the second he touched the handle of the door.

Hadrian was slightly peeved he hadn't been invited to the apparently important meeting. He had been the one to suggest his father to simply blow the entire wretched prison apart, rather than trying to sneak each prisoner out discreetly. It was his idea to grab any prisoner they could find, and cart them off to safety on a nearby unplottable, hidden island. That way the Death Eaters could make a second, and third trip quickly to rescue any other prisoners before the Aurors arrived.

Once everyone was on the island, it hadn't been difficult to procure portkeys and transport the rescued prisoners to Riddle Manor. When they arrived, his father calmly instructed Lucius to identify the rescued prisoners. He placed Rabastan Lestrange in charge of directing the uninjured into separate rooms, and the injured were transported to one of the many parlors of Riddle Manor, where Narcissa was serving as a quasi-mediwitch for the time being.

Hadrian had watched the strange efficiency sharply, and his eyes narrowed when he caught sight of his father's gaze latching onto one of the rescued. The prisoner was nothing special, other than the fact that he looked far more haggard and roughed up than any of the other Death Eaters. Hadrian did not recognize the man, but something about him–perhaps it was the sharpness of his face–seemed familiar.

When the chaos had tamed down a bit, and every Death Eater was accounted for, his father retired to his study, along with a handful of his closest followers. Hadrian glowered as he realized that did not include him.

He leaned against the wall opposite to the doors, nearly slipping down when they opened and Lucius Malfoy and a few other high ranking Death Eaters stepped out.

"I'll contact the Daily Prophet. It'll be handled, don't worry, my Lord." Lucius promised, bowing in respect. His eyes landed on Hadrian, surprised. "Hadrian, he wants to see you."

Hadrian resisted the urge to make a face at the blond man, and instead waited until the death eaters had left before entering his father's study and slipping into the chair across his desk. His father was casually sipping a tumbler of what Hadrian assumed to be firewhisky and leaning back in his chair.

Hadrian curiously eyed the crystal decanter full of the amber liquid that sat upon the Dark Lord's mahogany desk. He opened his mouth to ask–

"No, Hadrian. You can't have any. " His father said, almost amusedly.

Hadrian scowled, "You didn't even know what I was going to ask."

The Dark Lord smirked –He seemed to be in a good mood, Hadrian noticed–and chucked, "This is 500-year-old Ogden's Firewhisky. What kind of father would I be if I let my thirteen year old drink something like that?"

Hadrian's jaw dropped open in disbelief. "You crucioed me in this very room yesterday! And since when are you concerned with being a 'good father'? "

His father waved away his protests, "That was for your own good. And I've always been concerned with being a good father. I took you in, didn't I?"

Hadrian almost snorted. "You kidnapped me."

His father shook his head, "I seem to recall that you were _quite_ willing to come along."

"That was before I knew you were a psychopath!"

His father shrugged, "I am far to pleased to curse you right now, but rest assured if anything had gone badly in this plan, I would've certainly punished you for that comment."

Hadrian stilled suddenly, his father's words repeating in his mind. He carefully assessed his father's, dare he say _jovial_ mood, and the way he seemed to be completely calm when Lucius had first informed him of the Wiltshire negotiations gone wrong.

It was almost as if he were expecting this.

It was _too_ planned. Everything was _too perfect_ for it to have been a shock to the great almighty Dark Lord.

"You knew this would happen." Hadrian accused.

"Pardon?" His father questioned, completely at ease.

"You-You knew the Wiltshire negotiations were never going to happen. You _knew_ the Aurors would come!" Hadrian's eyes widened as he connected everything together. "That's why you didn't seem at all surprised when Lucius came in."

His father smirked, "Well, not exactly." He paused when he saw the confused look on his son's face. "I didn't just _know_ the Aurors would come. I'm the one that called them."

Hadrian froze. "Why? Why would you call the Aurors on your own followers? What happened to loyalty? A handful of your Death Eaters are dead! You sent them, knowingly, to their deaths!"

The Dark Lord shrugged, "We have to make a few sacrifices. Besides, if they got themselves killed, they weren't all that bright to begin with. Not much of a loss, I'll say."

"I don't understand why you would send your Death Eaters to a mission you purposely sabotaged. Only a few escaped, most of them were taken to Azkaban, and the rest were killed. How does that, in any way, make you pleased?" Hadrian questioned. "Not only did you have to launch an a plan to rescue the Death Eaters out of prison, you have to deal with the horrible publicity the Wiltshire incident and Azkaban break –out would give you."

His father could barely conceal his twisted smile, "Have I puzzled you yet?"

"Even if you wanted to sabotage the mission, why would you go back and rescue the Death Eaters you put in Azkaban yourself? That seems a bit counterproductive." Hadrian mused. Suddenly his eyes widened and he spoke slowly, "…Unless you needed something in Azkaban and the break-out was just a cover-up."

"Not some _thing_ , Hadrian. Some _one_." His father crossed his arms triumphantly and leaned back in a relaxed manner in his chair.

Hadrian's eyes flashed. "How could you do that to your followers? However stupid, idiotic they were, how could you leave them to die, or worse, be put in that hellhole? They're not your enemies, but people that gave their life to your cause. Is this how you reward them? By sacrificing them to save _one_ random prisoner of Azkaban. What if the plan to rescue them had failed? Bella, Rabastan… they could've been in there for who knows how long. You _know_ what that place does to people. And yet, you did this to them!"

His father's features darkened and he rose from his chair. A strange curse Hadrian didn't recognize was hurled at him before he could even blink.

He didn't care what curse it was, he was only focused on the burning sensation that ran through his blood and made his blood unbearable hot. His body felt weak and prisoner to the immense agony that was shooting through his veins. He could feel his vision steadily blurring and his heart felt like it someone was clenching it into a tight ball.

His father's figure loomed over him and he spoke in a quiet, deadly tone, "You do **_not_** tell me how to run my Death Eaters. They did not give their life to my cause; they gave their life to me. And I will use them as I see fit. I am _your_ master, not the other way around. If they had to spend eternity for me to get _one_ prisoner out of Azkaban, they would do so. And they would be happy to do so."

Lord Voldemort finally lifted the curse, and peered out the floor to ceiling window beside one of his massive bookshelves. He did not appear to seem even the slightest bit affected at his son's condition.

"I did this for a reason, one which I don't have to explain to you. That man that I organized all this to rescue… he's quite important to our future plans. It has to seem as though he's a part of our Death Eaters, which is why I orchestrated the entire scheme to have him break-out with the rest of my followers. I knew Bellatrix could not resist rescuing him, with her irritatingly strong loyalty. That man, dear Hadrian, is our newest recruit." His father's eyes hardened, and he looked toward the door of his office resolutely. "…Even if he doesn't know it yet."

Hadrian rose out of his chair, eager to get out of his father's study. "Who is he?"

His father turned back to the window, taking a sip of his firewhisky to hide his wicked sneer, "Third floor, the Red Suite. I think you can find out for yourself."

* * *

When Hadrian pushed open the door to the Red Suite, his eyes immediately landed on the ragged-looking man sitting in the massive four-poster bed with the crimson sheets. In the room full of luxury and antiques–all in complimentary shades of red, hence the creatively named "Red Suite"– the pale man stuck out like a sore thumb. His robes, the standard issue Azkaban prisoner stripes, were torn and dirtied and bloodied. His long hair looked as if it hadn't been cut in decades, since it was matted and had crusted with filth.

Hadrian wrinkled his nose in disdain. He couldn't understand what was so special about this man who resembled a beggar on the street. He didn't seem like the famous type. Despite all this, Hadrian reluctantly pulled a chair over to the man's bedside and stared at him, waiting for a spark of awareness to be evoked.

Hadrian studied the man, and finally asked, "Who are you?"

The man stared curiously at him, and then abruptly, he blinked with familiarity. "Harry…is that you?" The man whispered, reaching out to touch Hadrian's face.

Hadrian stilled.

No one had called him that in _years_.

 _Harry_ , he inwardly cringed, was dead to the world. The only people that knew about him were the Dark Lord, and Destiny.

No one had even _recognized_ him. Not even his actual _father_. And yet, this man…this man who had been in Azkaban for years, this man who hadn't seen another person other than a dementor and interrogator for years, **_he_ ** somehow recognized him?

A panicked look came into Hadrian's eyes, and he made to get out of the room quickly, but the man's hand latched onto his arm.

Hadrian swallowed his dread and glared distrustfully at the man.

"I asked," His voice took on a harsher tone, "Who. Are. You?"

"It's the eyes. I'd recognize those emeralds anywhere." The man mused. His sharp features were expressing some emotion Hadrian was unable to interpret.

In the blink of an eye, Hadrian shoved his wand into the man's throat and whispered, "Tell me who you are, and why you call me _Harry_. Or else."

The man laughed. "You certainly take after your father with all the threats, kid. But I'm still hurt you don't remember me. I suppose the whole "prisoner of Azkaban" appearance might have something to do with it. When you last saw me, I think I wore trousers, at least."

Hadrian gritted his teeth together dangerously and he knew the man could see the angry magic that cracked around him.

The strange man raised his hands in surrender, "Not in the mood for jokes, then. Oh Harry," His eyes twinkled with amusement, "I'm your Uncle Sirius, Sirius Black."

 **A/N:** Aaaand the Sequel has been updated! Sorry it took so long, you guys know I have finals in May. I hoped you liked it! It took me a while to figure out what I wanted to do, I'm not kidding, I literally wrote like 4 different versions of this chapter. As always, reviews mean so much to me and I always appreciate them, even if they're critical!

 **Follow me on Tumblr for more information on updates and other stuff- Username: lovemyromance**

I'm glad you guys enjoyed the first book in the Dark Prince series, and I hope you'll enjoy the second book too! Here's to _The Allure of Darkness!_

 **P.S: "** Toujours Pur" is the motto of the Noble House of Black. Since Bellatrix and Sirius are cousins, she still has loyalty to her family, even if Sirius is a known "blood-traitor".


	2. Bella

**A/N: I'm overjoyed you guys enjoyed the first chapter of this sequel! You guys are great and 38 reviews?! I feel spoiled XD. In this new chapter, I decided to try a new perspective from a different character. It's a bit emotional (if I wrote it correctly) so trigger warning? Hope you like it. It should explain a bit more about the Lestranges.**

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 **Riddle Manor [August 17th]**

Sirius Black glanced at the Harry, or _Hadrian_ , the name he apparently went by now a days. His eyes were narrowed in distrust and he shook his head and adamantly, insisted, "No, Harry. Your father wouldn't do that to me. James was my best friend, remember? Of course he'll believe me. Don't worry, kid. I'll get us out of here."

Hadrian sighed with impatience and pinched the bridge of his nose, turning to grab the box of newspapers he had brought inside with him. Ever since his father had tasked him with the responsibility of ensuring Sirius Black's loyalty to the dark side, his life had been hell. Sirius was actually quite entertaining to speak to, although he insisted on calling him _Harry_ , and also refused to speak about his time in Azkaban, despite his curiosity. Not to mention, the task of "converting" Sirius Black was proving to be rather difficult, since Black was unwaveringly loyal to Dumbledore and his Order of Chickens.

"I didn't want to show you this," Hadrian paused dramatically, "But you have to know, Uncle Sirius."

He shoved a newspaper in Sirius's lap, crossing his arms as Sirius read the headline aloud: "Head Auror Potter warns wizards to protect their families, their lives are threatened with a mentally deranged criminal, Sirius Black on the loose."

Sirius froze, and Hadrian could almost physically _see_ the trickle of doubt in his mind. He handed the man stack of newspapers, these ones dated just in the last couple of days.

"No he couldn't have." Sirius whispered in disbelief, but his eyes were conflicted as he held the evidence in his hands. The several issues of the Daily Prophet had pictures of James Potter all over them, the headlines declaring, "Head Auror Potter denies any standing friendship with convict Sirius Black."

"Head Auror Potter leads search for criminal Sirius Black, claims Black is a madman that was always unstable and would do anything-even murder- for himself."

"Head Auror Potter claims the Ministry will find Sirius Black, and he himself will be the first to sentence Black to the Kiss when found."

"These are fake! They must be, James wouldn't do this." Sirius declared, but even his own voice seemed doubtful. "He _knew_ me. We were best friends. He wouldn't think I'd actually do this. I never killed anyone in my _life_. James has to believe me. He wouldn't desert me."

Hadrian hid the triumphant smile that threatened to appear on his face. He plastered on a dejected expression, and prepared to tell the story of his parent's painful desertion, embellishing a bit here and there for the greatest intended effect. His voice was solemn as he concluded, leaning back against the chaise, "They deserted me too, Uncle Sirius. If they can do that to their own _son_ , what makes you think it would be any different for you?"

 **Lestrange Estate [August 17th]**

Rodolphus Lestrange prided himself on being part of the Dark Lord's inner circle. He was a brilliantly efficient killing machine, and his Avada-count was second to only his wife. He could decapitate someone faster than they could say, "Please, spare me."

Those that had the unfortunate experience of meeting him immediately feared him. Those that saw themselves on the receiving end of his wand knew they would suffer, for mercy was not a part of his vocabulary.

Yet, Rodolphus Lestrange was frightened of only two things: The Dark Lord, of course, and his own slightly murder-crazy wife, Bellatrix Lestrange née-Black. He wasn't sure whom he was afraid to disappoint more.

If he failed Lord Voldemort, it was a straight passage to Hell.

If he failed Bellatrix Lestrange, she'd probably withhold sex and practice her newly invented curses on him.

He wasn't sure which one was worse.

He could easily admit his wife had a crazy streak, he'd seen it first hand during his days at Hogwarts. His poor, naïve sixth year self had decided to ask a pretty girl to the Yule Ball, unaware that the dark beauty Bellatrix Black had already staked a claim on him. When his date was hospitalized the day of the ball– she was found stuffed into a broken vanishing cabinet, of all things–Bellatrix Black had conveniently shown up, dressed to the nines in a revealing black dress that hugged every curve.

Despite her enticing appearance, Rodolphus was a bit suspicious and questioned her about his original date. To his surprise, Bellatrix Black readily admitted everything to him–what's more, she seemed to take pride in making sure his date was unavailable in the most morbid way. She then had the audacity to demand he take her to the ball instead, and even officially court her. He had tried to be angry, but then she pulled him into a broom closet and proceeded to snog him until he couldn't think straight. He hadn't needed much convincing after that.

He'd seen more of her insanity when Bellatrix's father, the formidable Cygnus Black, had deemed Rodolphus unfit to marry his daughter. While Rodolphus was dejected and insisted on proving his worthiness to her father, Bellatrix had other ideas. Merely two days later, an imperioused Cygnus Black showed up at the gates of the Lestrange Estate, demanding Rodolphus sign the marriage contract that betrothed him to his daughter.

Two months later when Cygnus Black refused to spend endless galleons hiring a "dragon-fire show" for the wedding, Bellatrix gleefully imperioused her father–again– to sign over half his holdings. She called it an early wedding present.

Rodolphus found it rather endearing.

However, their service to the Dark Lord certainly made danger and turmoil in their lives unavoidable. Rodolphus reluctantly admitted that several of their fights were due to his annoyance of Bella's undying devotion to Lord Voldemort. During the early years of their marriage, he feared Bellatrix would be _too_ wild for him. She was spontaneous, exciting, and unpredictable–if not slightly insane– and she was everything Rodolphus was _not_.

But then Bellatrix encountered Frank and Alice Longbottom during one of the raids. For Aurors who were meant to preserve peace, they certainly had no qualms about torturing Bellatrix for information. They locked her up in a hidden location for days, starving and humiliating and torturing her until she broke.

When she was rescued, Rodolphus held her in his arms and carried her up the steps to their bedroom. He simply lay with her on their bed, running his hands through her curls in a soothing manner. To her credit, she did not cry. But Rodolphus knew they had broken his wild, carefree wife with all their curses and torture. She was nothing but a shell of a human.

Rodolphus knew she was strong. She was invincible and just a few months later, Bellatrix Lestrange was back at the Death Eater meetings, with an even more vindictive streak than before. Rodolphus was in awe of the way she managed to become even _stronger_ than before. She wasn't her teenage self anymore; she was a woman seeking retribution for all those that had wronged her. _Nothing_ would get in her way.

One day after a particularly successful raid, Rodolphus had taken his wife out for a quick ice-cream treat when they encountered a little girl outside the shop. Her parents were not in sight, and they watched wearily as the girl burst into tears. Bellatrix claimed the brat was giving her a headache, and she grabbed the girl by the hand and dragged her into the shop. Despite complaining about the girl's sticky hands, she forced the owner of the shop to give the sobbing girl any ice-cream she wanted. Rodolphus was panicking internally as he watched his wife stare at the little girl in pigtails, thinking she would do something rash and perhaps Avada the child in the middle of the shop. Unbeknownst to him, his wife's thoughts were far from that direction.

When they arrived back home, Bellatrix had thrown herself on their bed and demanded he give her a baby.

At first, he had had his own reservations. They were in the midst of a war; surely a child was not the best decision at this time. They both were members of the Dark Lord's inner circle, and who knew if the Dark Lord gave out maternity leave?

But the more adamant his wife grew, the more Rodolphus couldn't help but think back to the lifelike gleam Bellatrix had in her eyes the first time she saw the little girl in the ice cream shop. It wasn't a murderous look, which was a look many children received from her. It was the first time he had seen a glimpse of the old Bellatrix since she came back from her abduction and torture session. She was torturing poor souls and doing the Dark Lord's work with a mad grin on her face before, and it made her happy. Rodolphus would give anything to have _that_ Bellatrix back.

So he agreed to try. They read up on every book on the subject, researched every potion to better their chances of having a child. It was rather comical, the sight of Rodolphus coming home from a Death Eater meeting with blood still fresh on his robes and reading baby scrolls and books with his wife. It seemed so _domestic_.

He remembered the day when Bellatrix announced she was pregnant. His wife, ever fond of the dramatics, had stormed into a meeting with the inner circle members and shared the joyous news. Rodolphus had been ecstatic, if not slightly fearful of what Lord Voldemort would do to Bella because she interrupted an important strategy meeting.

It turned out the Dark Lord _did_ in fact grant maternity leave to his closest followers. Rodolphus suspected it might have had to do with the fact that the Dark Lord treasured Bellatrix, and harming her child would probably result in Bellatrix finally becoming psychotic. The Dark Lord needed her somewhat sane, at least, in order for her to be useful.

Rodolphus had a feeling this child would be the one thing she would love even more than her precious Master.

He soon grew attached to the not-yet-child as well. Sometimes he would lay his head in Bella's lap while she read a baby book and absentmindedly stroked his hair. He'd feel ridiculous, but he would speak to his wife's stomach, even though there was not much physical evidence of their child at the time. He was really hoping for a boy, because he was sure any girl would be an exact copy of Bellatrix, and he wasn't sure he could control one, let alone two. He could feel his blood pressure rising at the mere thought of his little mini-Bellatrix imperiousing him just to marry some tosser.

It turned out that he didn't have to worry about any of that.

He came home one day to silence, other than a small sound coming from some obscure part of the Manor. He could feel something horrible creeping into his bones, but he still continued up the stairs, following the whimpers that were growing louder.

When he saw the faint trail of blood on the carpet, his wand was already drawn, ready to avenge his wife. When he pushed open the door to one of the dusty storage rooms, his heart stopped. Narcissa Malfoy was trying to restrain his wife, wrapping her arms around Bellatrix's thin frame and brushing aside her unruly hair. She was whispering something to her, but Rodolphus couldn't hear over the sounds of his wife's screams. He immediately dropped to his knees and gently took her from Narcissa.

He was prepared for if his child had deformities, or if it were a squib, or if it was a mini-Bellatrix. He had even read up on how to resist the imperious curse in preparation for _that_ future. But he was not prepared for _this_.

Rodolphus considered that day the worst day of his life. It wasn't the day he was first tortured by Lord Voldemort for failing a mission. It wasn't the day his brother accidentally pushed him off a cliff (although he was positive that was _NOT_ an accident). It wasn't the day he realized Aurors had abducted his wife. It wasn't the day Severus Snape cursed him with some strange cutting curse in the halls of Hogwarts.

No, the worst day of his life was trying to console his distraught wife after she had lost their first child.

If he had to recall, Rodolphus would think that was the first time he had seen his wife _cry_ in front of him. She hadn't cried at their wedding–and although some people insisted that _he_ cried at their wedding, it simply was not true at all. She hadn't even cried when she came back from being tortured.

But she cried then. She'd asked him, her voice still hoarse from crying for nearly hours, "Is it because we aren't good people? Is it because I torture for sport? Is this how the universe decides to punish me? Why?"

He didn't know what to say to that, but he simply wanted to get his wife to stop sobbing. So instead he proposed, "Let's try again."

And they did.

Again, and again, and again they tried.

After a while, Rodolphus regretted the second he ever suggested they try again. It was almost a cycle now. They would try constantly, she would fall pregnant, and then inevitably a few months into the pregnancy, she would lose the baby. With each try, Rodolphus could see a little bit of the life and sanity in her eyes diminishing.

Narcissa suggested they see a Healer one day. It was quite difficult for any of the Death Eaters to visit St. Mungos, because most–if not all of them– were convicted criminals. One foot into the hospital would have the Aurors surrounding the place. But one look at his wife and Rodolphus knew he would have to risk it.

He set up several glamour charms and disguised their voices and went to extreme measures to make sure their identities would not be compromised. He and Bellatrix walked into the hospital, and entered the assigned room under the careful watch of the Healers in charge of that floor. They seemed slightly suspicious of the two, but a quick wandless Confundus charm had their suspicions turned elsewhere.

The Healer assigned to them ran several tests, recording information on their chart in a quick scrawl. She looked puzzled at some of the results, and stared at the information for a long time, enough time for Rodolphus to grow impatient. When the girl finally turned back to them, she had a strange look on her face.

"This may seem like a rather odd question, but have you ever been under the Cruciatus curse, Miss?"

Bellatrix froze minutely, and looked to her husband for reassurance. He nodded stiffly and the Healer quickly wrote something else down.

The Healer's expression seemed pained when she finally spoke, "I'm very sorry, but it seems as though the Cruciatus curse you were subjected to seems to have altered your ability to conceive. You are still fertile, which is why you were able to get pregnant in the first place, but the Cruciatus curse caused far too much damage for you to successfully carry the baby until birth. I don't think there's anything we can do, and given your condition, I would advise you not to try for children, for it would only cause your own health to weaken and it will most likely not be successful. I will give you two a minute now."

As soon as the Healer left the room, Rodolphus grabbed his wife and apparated out of there. He barely had any time to process the news because he knew his wife would want to quite literally explode the entire place. At home, he pushed his wife into a locked room and stood outside, wincing when he heard the sounds of explosions. He stood there waiting until the sounds of her cursing everything in sight had faded away.

When he opened the door, Bellatrix bounded outside with a strange glint to her eyes. His wand was out, in case this was enough to drive Bellatrix past her breaking point and she would begin to curse her own husband. But instead, Bellatrix smiled and simply strolled out of the room, striding purposefully towards the front doors of the Manor.

"Where are you going, Bella?" He called out hesitantly.

"I'm paying a visit to the Longbottoms. I haven't seen them in a while." She responded gleefully, nearly racing out the door.

Rodolphus quickly ran after her, easily catching up with her swift sprint. He wasn't sure how the Dark Lord would react to this; the man was never happy when his followers decided to do something _unplanned_.

But he also knew that stopping his wife right now was asking for a death wish. So he followed her, and grabbed her arm just as she was apparating off the Lestrange Estates.

They landed in the lawn in front of what Rodolphus assumed to be the Longbottom residence. He barely had time to run after Bellatrix before she blasted open the front door. She walked through the house, searching, prowling until she finally caught a glimpse of the people she had grown to hate with every bone in her body.

Frank and Alice Longbottom had their wands already drawn, but they were cowered in fear at the sight of the raw, angry crackling magic that surrounded Bellatrix. They edged closer and closer to the back of the room, while Bellatrix's magic grew stronger with her rage.

Rodolphus could still remember the exact moment Bellatrix snapped. He could quite literally _feel_ her furiousness in waves radiating from her body when a small boy–perhaps only of two or three years–peeked out from behind Alice Longbottom's legs.

"Mummy?" The child whispered in fear, staring at the enraged Bellatrix with fright in his eyes.

He remembered the way his wife's eyes slowly, deliberately moved from Alice to the young boy calling her "Mummy". It was in that moment, Bellatrix Lestrange snapped.

Bellatrix began to cast Crucios faster than he could even blink. Alice and Frank Longbottom crumpled before them, and their knees bent at odd angles from the curse. They were sobbing at her feet, but Bellatrix didn't seem to care.

She _wanted_ them to know the pain of what they had done to her. She wanted them to cry and beg in front of their terrified son. She wanted to torture them to the point of insanity for daring to take something away from her. She wanted to punish them for having what she could never have.

Rodolphus knew he should've stopped her, but he couldn't. She was beautiful when she wanted revenge, and at that moment she was magnificent. He'd do anything for that woman, even if it meant he'd have to spend eternity in hell.

Which was not quite a hyperbolic statement.

It turned out, the second they had apparated onto the Longbottom's property, their wards had been triggered to alert the Order. It seemed as though they were expecting an attack of sorts. Aurors surrounded the house and Rodolphus knew they had no chance of escaping.

Bellatrix did not seem to be very concerned with escaping, and instead she turned her wand on the child. She didn't have the opportunity to curse the child, for the Aurors stormed into the room and magically restrained both his wife and himself.

Rodolphus was reluctantly resigned to his detainment; he knew it would only be a matter of time before the two of them got caught in the act. His wife, however, went almost willingly, with a gleeful smile to her face. She had destroyed the minds of two skillful Aurors and gotten revenge for everything they had done to her. She couldn't stop smiling.

They both were thrown in adjoining cells in Azkaban. Of course, no trial was held. He doubted the Dark Lord would rescue them, since rumor had it Lord Voldemort was furious with his two followers for taking rash actions and getting themselves imprisoned in the process. He suspected the Dark Lord would be quite content to leave them in the prison for a while, as a punishment.

His time in Azkaban was full of darkness. Quite literally, since the high-security cells in Azkaban didn't have any source of light. Light gave the prisoners hope, and the guards surely couldn't have that.

He lost track of time in the prison. He wasn't sure how long he spent in there, for the days were undistinguishable from the nights and the years were unremarkable in darkness. Most days the guards would torture him for information, beat him, scar him, anything to make him reveal something of importance. He didn't mind it after a while, it had grown almost into a routine.

They tortured Bellatrix perhaps the same amount, if not more. But for her, they would never leave the cell. The guards would chain her to the walls of her own cell and curse her until she lost consciousness, and then the process would repeat.

Sometimes he suspected the guards gave Bellatrix the "cell-treatment" for his own torture. He could hear her screams through the iron bars separating their cells, and countless times he would reach out into the darkness, trying to reassure her in any way he could. His sweet, wild, beautiful Bella was being reduced to a mere animal in the cell right beside his, and he could do nothing. He had promised to protect her when they wed, and he was incapable of doing so. He wasn't sure whom they were trying to torture more.

After the guards had left dejectedly, he and Bellatrix would scoot over to the bars separating their cells. They would lean their heads together against the bars, and he'd slip his hand under the gaps and reach out for hers. Often, Bellatrix would murmur nonsense things under her breath. She would babble and laugh insanely and hiss scathing remarks of retribution.

He'd squeeze her hand and wait for her quiet whispers to stop, wait until the brief stints of insanity had run their course, wait until she was able to speak coherently again.

Rodolphus told her they would get out of here someday, though he wasn't sure she believed him. He wasn't sure if he believed himself. He would speak to her constantly, though she'd respond only a quarter of the time. He had to keep her engaged, lest she slip into insanity like most people did at Azkaban.

He was her anchor, and she was his sun. Her brief, one-word responses would give him more hope than any flicker of light in the empty void could. He _knew_ he had to keep her talking–he didn't know if he could bear to see her descend into madness.

Eventually, the Dark Lord did sneak them out of Azkaban, about five or six years later. Rodolphus knew they weren't freed out of mercy, but because the Dark Lord must've needed them for something or another. He didn't care, he just wanted out.

It took more than an entire year for Bellatrix to recover from Azkaban. She did go on a brief killing spree immediately after Azkaban, though, killing anything in her path.

The Dark Lord probably enjoyed her newly renewed bloodlust.

She had an odd fascination with children. Every raid they went on, Bellatrix would be fixated on the small mudblood children left behind in the aftermath. He could see the longing in her eyes. But they both knew that they could never just _take_ a mudblood child and raise it as their own. There were certain _standards_ , _expectations_ the Dark Lord held.

Bellatrix would kill them all. If _she_ couldn't have them, no one could. Rodolphus got a glimpse into his wife's twisted mind when she justified killing them.

"They should die knowing they were loved, rather than be forced into a life as a penniless orphan. They should die happy with their memories," She claimed.

Then they met the Dark Lord's supposed heir. At first, Bellatrix grew angry again at the mere sight of the child. He was far too clever for his age, but he seemed to adore Bellatrix. Rodolphus guessed it was Hadrian Riddle's fondness of her that allowed his Bellatrix to feel slightly whole again. She treated him like her own son. He would tug on her curls and go muggle hunting with her and call her Bella-Bella and she would pretend to be annoyed, but Rodolphus knew she secretly enjoyed it.

Sometimes she'd still resort to fits and he'd catch her staring into empty space far too often, but she didn't show signs of insanity, and for that he was grateful.

When they kidnapped a little girl who–according to the Dark Lord–was a Seer, he knew something had changed. Bellatrix begged the Dark Lord, doing anything he asked without even thinking, anything just so she could have the child. Finally, Lord Voldemort gave in to her demands. Destiny was the final glue to Bellatrix's soul, as he liked to think, and she was the one that brought back the old Bella.

Destiny Lestrange charmed everyone around her, and Rodolphus knew Bellatrix wouldn't even think twice about risking her own life–and even his life– for the little girl.

He knew that as a pair, he and his wife were not the greatest people. He was sure they would go straight to hell for all the sins they had committed for their cause. They were killing and torturing hundreds of people, for Merlin's sake.

But the one redeeming quality about Bellatrix was her unconditional love for her daughter. As a deadly Death Eater, Rodolphus wasn't sure his wife was even capable of something as sentimental and demanding as _love_. He wasn't even completely sure she loved _him_. And yet, all one had to do was look at the way Bellatrix looked at her daughter like a priceless treasure and the amount of pure adoration she held for Destiny was clearly visible. If anything happened to Destiny–well, Rodolphus was sure Bellatrix would definitely seek revenge in the most cruel way.

Which was why Rodolphus was uncomfortably patting Destiny's back as she simultaneously cried and sorted through the blurry future to predict her mother's return from Azkaban, _again._ He was sure one wrong move would have Bellatrix hunting for his blood, husband or not.

While Rodolphus was also concerned for his wife and brother, his greatest worry at that moment was properly handling the crying teenage girl in his arms. He had no doubt the Dark Lord would have a plan to rescue the captured, but he also had no doubt that if he didn't take care of Destiny, Bellatrix would send him to Azkaban herself.

He was quite sure nearly everyone in the room heard his sigh of relief when his wife walked through the doors of the main hall.

"Mum!" Destiny Lestrange shouted in what could only be described as unadulterated relief as she dashed down the winding spiral staircase of Lestrange Manor, two steps at a time.

Her eyes were slightly red and puffy, giving the appearance she had been crying for a rather long period of time. Truthfully, Destiny Lestrange had not received any sleep for the past two days due to the anxiousness she felt at the imprisonment of her mother. It had been quite frustrating for the young girl to know the exact second Bellatrix had been dragged into Azkaban, but not being able to see when–even _if_ –she would be released. It hadn't been long since Bellatrix had been thrown into the high-security prison, but it had been enough time to leave Destiny nearly distraught with fear.

Rodolphus took his time strolling down the stairs, careful to ensure his face did not show the true extent of his distress for his wife. His eyebrows furrowed slightly in confusion when he noticed the Dark Lord's heir and a unkempt man with disheveled black hair standing beside her. Despite his puzzlement, he still watched silently with a hidden smile on his face as Destiny ran into Bellatrix's awaiting arms.

"Destiny, my dark angel, I'm fine. I got a bit roughed up, but nothing I can't handle," Bellatrix said in an unnaturally soft tone reserved only for her daughter, "Us Lestranges are difficult to destroy. Remember what we do when someone dares?"

Destiny hugged her mother tightly and replied in a hiccupping voice, "Caedite eos."

A dazzling smile appeared on Bellatrix's face, instantly brightening her dark features.

Suddenly, she winced. An expression of pain marred her sharp features for only a split second, disappearing as quickly as it had appeared. Bellatrix quickly ducked her head down and rested her chin on top of her daughter's blonde head, wrapping her arms around the girl.

Rodolphus locked his gaze on his wife; the small wince had not escaped his notice. His shrewd stare discovered the fiery glint to her eyes had been dimmed by the troubled expression she struggled to conceal in front of Destiny. His eyes narrowed as he realized her brief stay at Azkaban had not been as pain-free as she claimed to admit.

Eventually, Bellatrix pulled away from Destiny and gestured to the man standing uneasily at her side. The man had been eyeing their exchange with a mix of befuddlement and surprise, but nevertheless bowed slightly with a rigid politeness–which seemed somewhat reluctantly ingrained in his mannerisms–when Bellatrix motioned for him to step forward.

"Destiny, I'd like to introduce you to someone. This is my cousin, Sirius Black," Bellatrix turned to face Sirius and declared proudly, "Cousin, this is my daughter Destiny."

"It's an honor to finally meet you, Lord Black." Destiny responded, a knowing twinkle in her eyes. "I've been waiting for you."

Sirius Black raised his eyebrows, "Do you train all these kids to be this formal since age eleven?"

Rodolphus snickered, "Eleven? Narcissa would have a heart attack. Our Destiny has had etiquette lessons since she was seven."

Sirius rolled his eyes in a teasing manner, "Of course she has. Do you ever do anything other than learn which fork to use for dessert and read Latin scrolls?"

Destiny shrugged. "Sometimes Aunt Narcissa allows me to balance a stack of books on my head to perfect my posture," She admitted in all seriousness.

Sirius paled and even looked slightly worried, until Destiny began to laugh, "I can't believe you fell for that."

A small smile tugged at his lips when he realized she was simply pulling his leg. _Maybe he could spend some time with his entertaining young niece before he found a way out of the Death Eater custody–_

"I wouldn't do that, if I were you. I don't mean to be rude, Uncle Sirius–can I call you that?" Destiny paused and waited for him to nod in bewilderment before continuing, "Whatever you're trying to do, it won't end well. This may sound utterly ridiculous, but trust me, you're safer with us."

"Destiny…" Rodolphus warned slightly, moving forward to stand next to Bellatrix. He slipped an arm around his wife's waist and his eyes widened with alarm when she leaned against him entirely, sagging against his side and unable to support her own weight.

"Sorry, Rodolphus. But Uncle Sirius has to know, it won't work." She looked meaningfully at the man beside her.

Sirius couldn't help the disbelieving sneer that appeared on his face at her words, "And how would you know, little girl?"

Hadrian Riddle leaned against the wall and spoke for the first time that evening, "She's a Seer. Destiny can look into the future and determine any outcome."

Destiny grinned, "That's why Fred and George can never pull any pranks on me. You should really see how confused they get when they don't understand how I managed to avoid another trap of theirs."

Hadrian rolled his eyes, "Must you call those Weasley twins by their names?"

"Weasley?" Sirius glanced back at Bellatrix with obvious bafflement, "Your daughter is friends with Weasleys?"

"Well considering they're the only ones in my house that _don't_ ostracize me, I supposed they were my only choice of friends." Destiny mumbled.

"I thought Slytherins always stuck together, and all that loyalty bullshit." Sirius pointed out, somewhat mockingly.

Hadrian's cold features twisted into an amused smirk, "Well of course we do. However, Destiny isn't in Slytherin. She's a Gryffindor."

Sirius closed his eyes and turned to Bellatrix, "Your daughter, a Lestrange _and_ Black, was placed in Gryffindor?" He didn't wait for a response and burst out laughing in apparent glee. "I think I've seen it all now. I can die happily."

"Things have changed since you were put in Azkaban, cousin." Bellatrix said tightly.

Sirius eyed Destiny with a renewed interest. "Apparently," He murmured.

Destiny continued to charm an unsuspecting Sirius Black. Rodolphus didn't trust the raggedy looking man at all, but Bellatrix did–for some reason unknown to him–going as far as to even save him from Azkaban. And he knew very well how loyal his wife was to her family, regardless of what a blood traitor Sirius was.

Rodolphus pressed a kiss to his wife's forehead and leaned his head down to whisper quietly so only she could hear, "Did they hurt you?"

His grip on her frail waist tightened when she responded with a silence that told him far more than anything she could have said.

She gasped inaudibly, and Rodolphus immediately dropped his arm, his dark eyes searching her pained face worriedly. He experimentally ran his hand down her side, gritting his teeth together in anger when she winced as his hands grazed a spot on her ribs. He could feel her robes were slightly damp and although the black color hid any stains, Rodolphus was sure they were _soaked_ in her blood.

He reluctantly turned to Bella's cousin, Sirius Black, and hissed, "I'm taking Bella upstairs to recover. Take care of those two for the next few hours."

Sirius Black eyed the other man with apparent distrust, "I'm not a baby-sitter."

Rodolphus rolled his eyes, "My wife saved you from what was sure to be a slow death in Azkaban, I'm sure you can watch her beloved daughter and Hadrian for the next few hours."

He didn't wait for a response as he easily lifted Bella in his arms bridal style, and tried not to run up the stairs, though it was proving rather difficult when he was frightened that his wife would bleed out on the stairs of their home. Bellatrix was lying almost lifeless in his arms from the pain at her side. She buried her head further into his shoulder, and he could feel the short little breaths she managed to take to shutter the pain.

"Why didn't you go see Narcissa immediately after you got out?" He demanded, "She was healing all the injured. Dammit, Bella, this is serious!"

Despite her pain, Bellatrix managed to scowl darkly at him, and she whispered sarcastically, "I'm sorry I wanted to see my daughter first thing after nearly having my soul sucked out by dementors?"

Rodolphus growled under his breath and pushed open the doors to their room with his foot, being careful not to drop his wife unceremoniously onto their bed. Her blood immediately began to stain the light grey sheets, but he had other concerns. He wasn't the best in school, but years of battle as a Death Eater had caused him to pick up a few healing spells, at least.

He murmured a couple _episkys_ , and spells to force her blood back into her body. Rodolphus found a blood-replenishing potion in their nightstand, which he also forced down her throat. He wasn't sure what he could do for the large cut that ran from her hip to the top of her ribs, and so he slathered a potion to stop the infection and covered it with a bandage. It didn't do much for her broken condition, but it would have to do for now.

He carefully wrapped an arm around her shoulder and kissed the top of her bouncy curls. He was about to tell her to get some sleep, but then she cut him off.

"Hadrian told me the Dark Lord intended for the Wiltshire negotiations to go awry." Bellatrix blurted out, and once she began, she found she couldn't stop. "The Dark Lord, he–he wanted us to be thrown into Azkaban. Hadrian said his father _wanted_ me to save Sirius, he wanted to make sure it looked as though my cousin was part of the Death Eaters."

Rodolphus froze, his hand still tangled in his wife's hair. He could feel a bit of anger, though he tried his hardest to suppress it. His features hardened, and hesitantly he said in a biting tone, "Perhaps the Dark Lord does not seem to care for his followers. Does our loyalty mean nothing to him? Are we just disposable soldiers?"

She hissed and quickly shushed him, pressing a finger against his lips, "Don't speak of him that way."

"What happens when he throws us inside Azkaban as a punishment again? What if he goes after Destiny to punish you? What then, Bella? When will it finally be too much?"

Bellatrix sat up quickly, biting back the scream that threatened to burst out of her throat at the sudden motion. Her eyes were flashing with warning, and she grasped his hand tightly. She glanced around the room fearfully and whispered, "It doesn't matter, Rodolphus. We gave our lives to him, and he can do whatever he wants with them."

And if she said it somewhat resentfully, no one else would know.

* * *

 _Caedite Eos- Lestrange Family Motto. Roughly translates to, "Kill them."_


	3. Welcome

**Disclaimer: I don't own HP. JK Rowling owns Harry Potter.**

 **A/N: Hey everyone, thanks for reading and reviewing! As per your request, I did add in a Harry/Daphne moment and maybe (if you can catch on it?) some subtle one-sided Dramione. I'm glad you enjoyed a brief look into the Lestrange life in the last update, and I hope you'll like this chapter as well!**

 **Side note: Ana Karen Malfoy is working on translating the Dark Prince into Spanish (she's on chapter 2 right now, I think) and she plans on translating this entire monster of a fic and its sequel(s)? So if you prefer Spanish, or if it's your main language, be sure to read "Dark Prince" translated by Ana Karen Malfoy!**

 **Follow me on Tumblr for more information on updates and other stuff- Username: lovemyromance**

 **Platform 9 [September 1** **st** **]**

"Introduce me to your mother, Draco." Ginevra Weasley asked–more like demanded from the blond haired third year that was currently escorting her through the platform.

Hadrian could've snickered openly at the irritated expression on Draco's face. He could physically see the effort it took Draco to plaster on a charming smile and reluctantly walk her towards his mother.

He had ordered his friend to escort Ginevra under the guise that it was "proper etiquette expected from all pureblood gentlemen of his stature".

In reality, Hadrian was simply following his father's directives. His father had commanded him to appear more like a harmless aristocrat, and less like a young lord in the making in order to reduce suspicion towards his name. Which meant everyone around him had to do the same, in order for the illusion to be seen–and believed– by all. Hadrian believed harboring a convict like Sirius Black at Riddle Manor was finally enough to force his father to tread cautiously and avoid the dramatics he was so fond of.

Hadrian saw Narcissa Malfoy look up from her conversation with her Destiny when Draco approached, tugging a smug Ginevra along his side. He trailed imperiously behind them, holding himself with certain casual arrogance only the son of the Dark Lord could exhibit.

"Draco, I've been wondering where you went off to without saying goodbye to your dear mother," Narcissa paused and deliberately let her gaze fall on the girl on his arm, "And who might this young lady be?"

Ginevra girl looked up then, and Narcissa was fairly amused at the way even her small smile seemed both sweet and shrewd. She curtseyed slightly, and introduced herself smoothly, "Ginevra Weasley, Lady Malfoy."

Narcissa raised a brow, "It's nice to meet you, Miss. Weasley. Do forgive me if I sound surprised, for my son has not done the courtesy of mentioning he's _acquainted_ with someone."

Draco heard the implication in his mother's voice and rolled his eyes, "That's because we are not 'acquainted'–"

"What Draco meant to say," Ginevra interrupted, shooting a glare at her blond companion, "was that we're simply good friends."

Destiny snickered under her breath.

Narcissa nodded, "I see. But perhaps you'd like to join my family at our annual Christmas Ball this year? It would be an excellent way to learn more of the elusive Ginevra Weasley," Her voice turned apologetic as she added, "I understand this might be too early to ask you, but I am sure my ill-mannered son will somehow forget when the time comes."

Ginevra concealed her surprise to the best of her ability, and opted to smile her devious little grin again, "It would be my pleasure, Lady Malfoy."

"Excellent." Narcissa beamed, "I'll be sure to owl you an official invitation closer to the date of the ball."

Hadrian stepped forward, and nudged his head in the direction of the Hogwarts Express, "We should begin to board now, since the train is about to leave. Destiny, go ahead without me, I'll get your trunk." He nodded towards Draco, and the blond sighed heavily in understanding as he grabbed Ginevra's trunk as well and began to walk towards the train with Destiny trailing behind them.

Narcissa Malfoy turned to Hadrian when her son was out of earshot and spoke softly, "You were correct."

"I usually am." Hadrian admitted with a grin, "But what exactly am I correct about this time?"

Narcissa moved her head in the direction of her retreating son and his redhead companion, "She's not like those other Weasleys. The fact that she's in Slytherin should've been enough, but she acts different from them as well. She's much more–"

"Mannered?" Hadrian interrupted, a smirk playing at his lips.

Narcissa tsked and shook her head in disapproval, "I was going to say refined," She paused and looked to be in deep thought for a moment, "I can work with that. It's been a while since I've had a new project."

"I do hope you remember that while we are trying to make her presentable to pureblood society, her change cannot be drastic enough to alert the Order."

"I will take care of it. When I finish with her, she will be able to go from a polished pureblood back to one of those simpering Weasleys in a matter of seconds. No one will have to know," Narcissa smiled, her eyes already shining with a certain calculating glint.

"Thank you, Narcissa. I'm not sure anyone else is as qualified as you to take on this particular challenge."

Narcissa smiled wider, "Charming as always, dear. But it is my pleasure," She eyed the Hogwarts Express behind him and suggested, "You might want to hurry along, for the train will certainly depart soon. Have a good year, Hadrian."

Hadrian nodded in response, grabbing his and Destiny's trunks and strolling towards the train. He boarded the train just as soon as it began to move from the platform. He strolled through the corridor, smiling at people who greeted him along the way. His father hadn't given him much of a difficult task this year, simply _be "less suspicious"_. He could definitely do that. Maybe he could even enjoy the trips down to Hogsmeade this year. _It would perhaps even be a normal year_.

He was about halfway to his usual compartment when he felt hands grab onto his arms and haul him inside an open compartment, causing him to drop the trunks he was carrying outside.

Hadrian growled under his breath and summoned his wand from his robes, relaxing slightly when he felt his magical lifeline in his hands. He was shoved unceremoniously onto a seat and held down from both sides. He rolled his eyes and scanned the compartment, his gaze lingering briefly on what looked to be a sleeping man leaned against the window dressed in a hideous tweed blazer. He wasn't sure who the man was–as far as he knew, professors didn't typically ride the train with the students.

Hadrian glanced over at where Alexander Potter stood, leaning against the wood paneling in a posture that was supposed to portray his apparent disinterest of the situation at hand.

"Potter." Hadrian addressed curtly, crossing his arms against his chest and leaning back in the seat, "Why is it you have hauled me into your cramped little compartment? You're not exactly my type."

Alexander glared at the tall Slytherin and pushed himself off the wall, choosing to sit in the seat opposite to Hadrian. He gestured to his two friends, Weasley and Thomas, and they loosened the death grip they had on their captive.

"Are you going to spit it out? And if you insist on confining me to this little room, at least send your little lackeys to get my luggage from the corridor. It's simple courtesy."

"Let's cut to the chase, Riddle." Alexander hissed under his breath, "Someone has tampered with my memories."

"Let's not rule out the possibility that you just have the memory of a toddler, shall we?"

"The last thing I can remember from last year was that I was following Ginny to make sure she was safe, lurking around with the likes of you. She's too nice of a girl to be corrupted by your dark magic schemes," Alexander pressed on, determined to ignore Hadrian's snarky remarks. "Then the next thing I remember is I'm waking up in the hospital wing, being questioned by Dumbledore. I wouldn't have been that worried, but my father told me I was passed out for _days_. You'd think one would remember that, don't you?"

Hadrian pretended to yawn, stretching his legs out and fixing Alexander with a questioning look, "And this has to do with me… _how_?"

Alexander growled and whipped out his wand, "I know you took my memories, Riddle. One minute you were there, and then you weren't. How do you explain people just disappearing like that?"

Hadrian smirked, "Magic."

"Bugger off, Riddle. You must've tampered with my memory, or erased it, or something. I looked it up this summer, all those headaches, and the nightmares of some weird snake-thing. Much to my surprise, those are all are symptoms one has after they've been hit with a memory charm."

"I didn't know you could read, Potter. I suppose everyone is being surprised now." Hadrian sneered. He narrowed his eyes at Alexander's drawn wand, and pointed his own in warning, "Put your wand away. I know you aren't going to use it. Even you wouldn't be stupid enough to duel me. We both know how that would turn out."

He smiled cruelly at the brief wince on Alexander's face, as he no doubt still remembered his firsthand experience with Hadrian's power last year. Perhaps his memory wasn't as horrid as Hadrian had previously thought.

"My father told me Alexander and Ginny saved Astoria Greengrass from Slytherin's monster last year in the Chamber of Secrets. Dumbledore tried to get Ginny to say where the Chamber was, but she was under some curse and she physically couldn't say it," Ronald Weasley spoke up, glancing at Hadrian suspiciously, "And Alexander couldn't remember anything that happened. I wonder who could've done that?"

Hadrian sighed tiredly, "What do you want from me Weasley, it's not like I was there. I don't know what happened."

"But you were there! I saw you!" Alexander Potter exclaimed in obvious annoyance, pointing an accusing finger at the Slytherin. "You were there with Ginny, and then when I woke up in the hospital wing, you weren't there. Even Ginny didn't mention you were there. But I _know_ you were."

Hadrian cursed under his breath at the idiot's stubbornness. His father would not hold back on cursing the life out of him if he found out that his son couldn't take care of Alexander Potter. He had to think quickly, lest Potter continue his rambling and somehow stumble upon enough evidence to actually be confident in his ridiculous claims–even though they were true.

"You're right. I was with Ginevra" Hadrian felt the corners of his lips twitch up, and he smoothly lied, "But my romantic affairs are none of your business."

Dean Thomas sighed in what Hadrian was quite sure was relief. He stood up and rolled his eyes, "See, Alexander! Riddle doesn't have anything to do with this memory loss scheme you randomly invented. You remember him because you saw him _with_ Ginny, not because he stole your memories or something."

"As in my sister, Ginny? She's with you?" Ronald Weasley spat disgustedly, "She was eleven! Those dungeons of yours turn everyone horrible, don't they? They turned Ginny into this stupid ditzy Slytherin tramp willing to fool around with Riddle of all people!"

Hadrian raised an eyebrow, "Are we done here? It's appalling enough I have to listen to you speak ill of your own blood, but I will not stand here and have you disgrace me as well."

Hadrian didn't wait for an answer as he rose from his seat, tucking his wand back into his robes and turning to walk out of the compartment.

"You're not leaving, until the Chosen-One says you are allowed to leave." Alexander Potter said in a low voice, pointing his wand at the back of Hadrian's head.

Hadrian chuckled darkly and turned around, not bothering to take his own wand out. "It's a bit pretentious to refer to yourself as 'The Chosen One' when you haven't done anything to earn that title," He paused and cocked his head to the side, "It seems as though you have forgotten the last _reminder_ I gave you. Do you need a refresher course? This time in front of your little sidekicks too?"

Alexander steeled his shoulders back and lowered his wand, the flash of fear in his eyes unmistakable despite his self-assured words, "You wouldn't dare try anything this year. My godfather is going to be a professor this year. If he sees anything wrong with me–Oh, you'll be expelled faster than you can spew your lies."

Hadrian looked over his shoulder and forced a sneer, " I didn't know you needed your godfather to protect you from me. It wouldn't do much good because if you ever decide to make me angry again, even Merlin couldn't stop me from cursing the life out of you."

Hadrian slid open the compartment door and stepped outside before anyone else could respond. He slammed the door shut extra loudly behind him and picked up the trunks that had fallen out of his hands. He smirked to himself as he heard the yelling begin behind the closed door.

Fortunately, he made it back to his own compartment without any other incidents. He slid open the door, only to find five wands pointed at him as soon as he stepped into the compartment.

Hadrian frowned in confusion, "Well, hello to you too."

Neville shrugged, lowering his wand, "We thought we heard something outside of the train, and it was only practical to ready our wands when you opened the door. "

"Where have you been?" Draco demanded, rising up from his seat to glare pointedly at his friend. "I can't believe you handed me off to Ginevra Weasley! In front of my _mother_! You know how she thinks! She probably is arranging some kind of "understanding" between us right now!"

Hadrian rolled his eyes, loading his and Destiny's trunks onto the rack above their heads. He dropped himself gracefully into his usual seat beside Daphne, throwing an arm around her thin frame instinctively.

"Hello, Daphne." He drawled, immediately noticing the differences in her appearance this year. Her hair had gotten slightly lighter, and her figure had certainly changed. Hadrian was suddenly very appreciative of her new curves and longer legs.

"Hadrian." Daphne responded, the corners of her pink lips tilting upwards, "You didn't write all summer, and yet, here you are, _daring_ to speak to me."

Hadrian leaned into her, brushing his lips against her ear and enjoying the way she shivered slightly at the small action. "Would you forgive me if I told you I got you a present?" He whispered.

She leaned away from him and crossed her legs, smirking at the way Hadrian's eyes followed her every movement. She sighed dramatically, "I suppose it depends on what it is."

He wordlessly slipped the burgundy box out of his robes, and presented it to Daphne with a dramatic bow. She gently plucked the box out of his hands and untied the bow. When she lifted open the top, her eyes widened.

"It's a necklace." Daphne murmured, lifting it out of the cushy padding in the box and inspecting it in her hands. It was a simple necklace, but the cluster of blue colored gems dripping from the center made it obvious the price was far from simple. She gasped and looked towards Hadrian, "Are these sapphires? How did you know they were my favorite?"

Hadrian shrugged, "I suppose I just have such good taste. And very good luck. I did manage to clean all the blood off all by myself before I gave it to you, though."

"What?" Daphne hissed, her fingers instantly stilling from where they were stroking the sapphires, "Are you telling me you stole this from some poor dead woman?"

Hadrian laughed, "I'm just kidding. I had some help to pick it out in this ritzy looking shop this summer."

Daphne glared at him but still threw her arms around his neck, "Thank you for the necklace. It's quite lovely."

Hadrian frowned down at her pretty face, "Is that all I get in return? A hug? I just bought you jewels, woman."

Daphne rested her head against his shoulder, and smiled beautifully at him, "I'm sorry, if you wanted a kiss you should've written to me this summer."

"If you two are done with your strange foreplay," Draco Malfoy sneered from across the compartment, "Can we address the problem at hand?"

Hadrian sighed and looked over at where Draco was pacing in apparent distress over his impending "understanding" with Ginevra Weasley.

"Relax, Draco. She's not about to plan your wedding. She just invited the girl to the annual Christmas ball. Besides, your mother was already informed of the plan." Hadrian murmured, leaning his head back against the wall.

"The plan? What plan? It's nice to know you have informed my mother, but not me– your best friend–about said plan." Draco muttered.

Hadrian fixed his best friend with an annoyed look, "Do you want to plot how to introduce Ginevra Weasley into this year's pureblood social calendar?"

"Not particularly, no." Draco admitted, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

"Why exactly are we turning Ginevra into some proper pureblood?" Blaise interrupted their banter, looking up from the book he was reading with Hermione on the floor.

Hadrian raised an eyebrow at their close position, noticing how Hermione looked much tanner and carefree than he had last seen her. His eyes widened in surprise when he realized he could actually see her face, now that her bushy hair had been tamed somewhat into a messy mass of curls.

"I spent the last few weeks with Blaise at the Rivera." Hermione explained, when she felt Hadrian's gaze on her. She blushed slightly, looking back down at her book, "He taught me how to go horseback riding. Oh, and bargain."

Blaise snorted, "You were horrible at bargaining. Let me tell you: She wanted a cat for twenty galleons, but she told the shopkeeper she only had ten. He was willing to give it to her for ten, but then little Miss 'I-can-bargain-myself-and-I-don't-need-your-help-Blaise' pulls out her twenty galleons and asks him if he has any change."

"He took the twenty galleons, didn't he?" Daphne asked amusedly.

Hermione nodded sadly, but patted the cage beside her, "It's alright though, since I got my beautiful Crookshanks. Fair deal, I'll say."

Hadrian peered through the opening of the cage and cringed slightly as he took in the cat's squashed face and hideous orange fur, "Hermione, that cat is the most ugly thing I've seen in my life, and I've seen Hagrid."

Hermione glared at him from across the room, "Stop insulting my cat, Hadrian. He's adorable."

"I don't understand why you need to bargain though. Zabini, you can literally buy all of Italy and still have enough left over to buy a couple national monuments." Draco pointed out, fixing his eyes on the way Blaise's fingers twirled one of Hermione's curls. His eyes narrowed, "Besides, what are you doing inviting the mudblood to Il Palazzo? How would she even be allowed through the wards?"

Blaise rolled his eyes, while the rest of the compartment groaned. He wrapped an arm around Hermione to hold her in place while she attempted to lunge up and point her wand at the blond's face. He did not seem to notice the way Draco's eye twitched at the affectionate gesture.

"For your information, I took _Hermione_ to Villa al Mare. It's just as nice by the ocean. And Hermione enjoyed the sunsets very much." He paused and a roguish grin appeared on his chiseled features, "I was a perfect gentleman, of course."

Hermione flicked his head, "Ha, perfect gentleman. You pushed me into the water the first chance you got."

Blaise winked, "I just wanted to see if that muggle swimsuit looked as good on you when you were wet," He looked towards Neville and smirked, "If you know what I mean."

Neville laughed and raised his hand up–

Destiny didn't even look up from the newspaper she was reading, "Don't high-five him for that. Put your hand back down."

Neville sighed and dropped his hand back down to his side, while the rest of the cabin muffled their laughter.

Abruptly, a dark shadow fell over the entire compartment, and Hadrian could feel Daphne freeze under his arm. His breath caught in his throat as he looked out the window to notice the train had stopped. He jerked back when a dark swooping figure ghosted over the window, slowly freezing it completely.

The train rattled on the tracks and everyone in the compartment quieted down. Hesitantly, Neville got up from the floor and slowly walked over to the door, his shaking hands opening it cautiously. He stuck his head out and noticed everyone else on the train seemed just as confused as he was.

The lights flickered, and suddenly the train was submerged in darkness. Hadrian could hear a couple high-pitched screams and students running around, but no one in his compartment made a sound, let alone moved.

Hadrian was all of a sudden incredibly cold, and hesitantly, he reached out and clasped Daphne's trembling hand in the dark. He felt a bit of warmth return to him as he squeezed her hand once and pulled her closer to him.

He felt his heart nearly stop when ragged black robes floated in front of their compartment. A heavily scabbed bony hand that was not quite human appeared and began to slide open the door. Hadrian gulped fearfully, and tentatively raised his wand in a threatening stance, though he wasn't sure if he knew a spell to get rid of the creature.

Hadrian felt as if his entire body was incased in ice, for every single feeling of warmth was sucked away from him. It was as though he would never be able to smile again, or even see anything but darkness. In a moment of clarity, he realized what these creatures were.

"Dementors." Hermione breathed, expressing what Hadrian had been thinking. Her voice took on a fearful tone as she edged closer to the window, "They-They feed on s-souls and are known to suck out any emotion and happy m-mem-memories."

Hadrian vaguely registered Daphne burying her head into his neck as the Dementor crept into their compartment, with its black hooded cloak blowing slightly in the cold wind it had brought with it into the room.

The Dementor had a rattling breath that came out in raspy little puffs they could all see due to the freezing temperature. Every time the creature breathed in, he swore it was as though another fond memory of his disappeared.

It crawled closer to Hadrian, and the remnants of the frail black cloak it donned brushed over Draco's legs. Draco froze in fright, his face going blank and eyes loosing a little bit of their light. Hadrian stilled, his wand still pointed at the creature though it was a useless effort. He could feel every ounce of the little positive emotion he had becoming gradually drained way, until he was only left an empty shell of a human.

All of a sudden, a bright white light barreled into their compartment, hitting the Dementor dead in the back. It screeched in annoyance and Hadrian was paralyzed at the sight of a hideous, bloody, toothless mouth. The Dementor backed out of the room when the light persisted, and it screeched once again before flying out of their sight.

Everyone in the compartment was still frozen in shock and Hadrian quickly swallowed down his fear to look up at the man who had cast the spell. His eyes widened in recognition at the sight of the man who was asleep earlier in Potter's compartment. The man had his brown hair combed to the side and his eyes were bloodshot as he looked into the room.

"Everyone alright?" He asked gruffly, scanning their pale faces for any signs of apparent damage.

Hadrian shook off his shock and nodded slowly, still feeling the emptiness in his body, though the numbness was slowly retreating and being filled with warmth again.

"Here, have some chocolate. It helps recover. From what I gathered, you lot got the worst of the attack, well you, and Alexander Potter's compartment," The man paused and surveyed the room again, "But considering none of you passed out, I'd say you had it better."

"Potter passed out?" Neville asked hesitantly, an amused glint coming into his eyes at the mere thought.

"That is what happens when those creatures try to suck out your soul, yes," The man remarked, "Don't be very active tonight, and be sure to eat a lot of food at the feast tonight. You'll be just fine after that."

He turned to leave, but Draco, finally having regained his voice, drawled, "I'm sorry, but who are you?"

"Remus Lupin, the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor." He declared, walking out the door without a glance back.

There was a moment of silence before Hermione muttered, "How the hell this school even open? Dementor attacks, moving staircases, three-headed dogs, some kind of Slytherin monster–what's next, students battling dragons for fun?"

 **Divination Tower [September 3rd]**

The bug-eyed woman glanced at her class for the year, the blinking of her cartoonish eyes emphasized behind her giant glasses. She brushed the mass of unruly frizzy curls behind her hair, and her voice was hoarse as she spoke, "Now, we will look into these crystal balls as a simple introductory exercise for our topic this week."

Destiny rolled her eyes and nudged her partner, Neville, as he set up the crystal ball in the middle of their low table. The smell of incense was heavy in the air, and Destiny was sure she would choke on the aroma of jasmine and sandalwood.

"Peer into the crystal ball, and record what you see. I must warn you, some of you may not have the Gift of Sight, but that should not deter you. Divination is an art, difficult for most to master."

Destiny rolled her eyes, and looked into the crystal ball. At first she simply saw Neville's distorted face from the other side of the translucent object, but soon the crystal ball began to fill with cloudy smoke, and Destiny frowned as she looked deeper. Her eyes widened when she began to make out the figure of some large dog, prowling through the woods. It sniffed the trail a couple times before breaking through the bushes and approaching what looked to be a large Manor of sorts. Destiny blinked in confusion, and suddenly the image disappeared.

Cursing under her breath, she wrote down her observations and waited for Neville to be done with his "Sight into the Future". She hid a smirk at the way Neville made a face at the cloudy ball, and watched him write something down. He muttered how he slowly wanted to drown the professor in the lake as he scribbled furiously on his worksheet.

"What did you see?" She asked, trying to peer at his sheet.

Neville winked at her, "I could only see your beautiful face, love."

Destiny blushed slightly and looked around panicked, making sure Hadrian was still frustrated with the ambiguous cloud shapes in his crystal ball. She leaned in and whispered in a panicked tone, "Not here Neville. Anyone can here us!"

"That makes it more exciting doesn't it? Oh hello, Professor Trelawney." Neville peered up, a perfectly benevolent expression plastered on his aristocratic features. It was almost as if he hadn't been cursing her and invented various ways to throttle her under his breath just a minute before.

"Neville, my boy. What did you see in your crystal ball?" She asked kindly, blinking her giant eyes at him.

Neville hid a smile and cleared his throat, "I saw lightening and fire…and-er more trees. And a giant bear was about to pounce on something. Does that mean I'm in danger, Professor?"

"No, dear. The aggressiveness of the bear symbolizes you're overwhelmed with life, and if you keep yourself back, you will surely die. The trees are simply there to show how much support you have, and how you can reach for them like branches at any time. The lightening shows your passion for life and the fire, well that is self explanatory," She paused and chuckled to herself, "I suppose you are quite the warrior _and_ an excellent student. Ten points to Slytherin."

Then, Trelawney turned to Destiny and glanced down at her paper, "And you, Destiny? What have you seen?"

Destiny bit back a sarcastic remark and instead said, "I saw a giant black dog walking through the forest. He sniffed the ground and then burst through the bushes to see some large Manor."

"And?" Trelawney prompted.

Destiny shrugged, "That's all I saw. There isn't much more to it."

Trelawney sighed, "That's alright, dear. I suppose not everyone is fit for Divination. Do not fret; very few in the wizarding world have the Gift of Sight. You're just like everyone else. Seers are very rare, Destiny. I don't think you have what it takes. I get a few of students like you every year, but do not worry. You may be horrible at divination, for it cannot exactly be learned. But I will do my best to help you through this year. Perhaps Neville can tutor you sometime, I'm almost convinced its as though he has a Seer right beside him!"

She walked away to assess another student's progress, while Destiny stared after her slack-jawed. She whipped her head around to face Neville, "Did she just tell me I don't have what it takes to be a Seer?"

Neville laughed aloud, "Y-You're an actual Seer, and Trelawney is telling you that you are horrible at predicting the future!"

Destiny scowled, "That fraud. She wouldn't know what the future looked like even if it slapped her in the face."

"I'd be perfectly happy to tutor you, Destiny." He said in a serious tone, "Not everyone can be as great as I am at Divination."

She rolled her eyes, "Oh please. You literally just made everything up. It was 100% bullshit."

"It worked, didn't it?" Neville smirked triumphantly.

Destiny opened her mouth to give a snarky remark in response, but he ignored her and continued on.

"Perhaps I can tutor you on the first Hogsmeade trip. Would you like to go with me?"

Destiny raised an eyebrow, "And where exactly do you plan on teaching me the 'fascinating art of Divination'?"

Neville shrugged, "There's this café in Hogsmeade my grandmother used to take me to when I was younger. It's usually not crowded, making it the perfect spot for us to _study_ alone."

Destiny smiled back, her irritation over the Divination professor forgotten, "It's a date."

 **Slytherin Boys Dormitory [September 6th]**

 _Dear Uncle Sirius,_

 _We were on our way to Hogwarts when our train stopped suddenly. There were dementors that crawled through the train, and one even came in our compartment. Sirius, it was horrible. I don't understand how you could possibly spend even a minute, let alone the entirety of your time at Azkaban around those creatures. It felt as though every positive emotion was being sucked out of me. Those creatures were so foul, and they probably would've sucked out our souls if it weren't for the new DADA professor. His name is Remus Lupin, and he's probably the best DADA professor we've had. The last professor we had was like some narcissistic peacock that tried to teach us about his ideal hair color, rather than actual defense._

 _Anyways, I overheard the prefects talking, and apparently the dementors were on the train because they were looking for you, Sirius. They thought you would try to meet Alexander, or any of the other Potters and they were ready to haul you back to Azkaban. Dumbledore has sanctioned more dementors to guard Hogwarts this year, so going in or out of the school is going to be difficult._

 _The only good thing about these Dementors is that they got Daphne and I closer together, quite literally. Also, you were right, Uncle Sirius. Girls do love jewelry. Thank you for helping me pick the necklace out._

 _I will be awaiting your response,_

 _Hadrian Riddle_

Hadrian sealed the letter, and set it aside on his desk. He pulled out another piece of parchment, but didn't address it or put any trace of his own name. He quickly scrawled down the message:

 _Black will join us, I can assure you. I will personally make sure there is nothing on his original side left to go back to, and everything on our side for him to hold onto._


	4. Fear

**A/N: I know, I know, I'm so sorry it took so long to update. I've just been super busy lately with my new job, internship, and all my classes. In fact, I wrote this entire chapter when I should've been studying for my midterm tomorrow. But oh well. I hope you guys enjoy it!**

 **Oh, and if you want more updates as to my writing process, sneak peaks, future dialogues, face-casts, and outfits, then check out my Tumblr page! It's the same url as on here, so LoveMyRomance.**

 **Also, I'm kind of (I say kind of because I barely know what I'm doing) looking for a beta, so pm me if you're interested!**

 **Without further ado, enjoy and remember to review and favorite!**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own HP. JK Rowling owns Harry Potter.**

 **Defense Against the Dark Arts [September 7** **th** **]**

Remus Lupin stood at the front of his classroom, scrutinizing his new class of third years. They were talking amongst themselves before class would officially start, but their topics of discussion often gave him a headache. Since when was "Merlin's saggy tits" a curse word? Perhaps he was just getting too old to understand these youths.

Judging from the array of green and red neckties and noticing the clear divide between the two groups, Remus concluded this was the notorious Slytherin-Gryffindor batch he was warned of by several other professors.

There were some familiar faces in the crowd, such as his own godson, Alexander Potter. His godson was certainly…unique, so to speak. After all, not every thirteen year old grew up as the Chosen One. He had taught Alexander Potter since he had first been declared the savior of the Wizarding world, but in his opinion, the boy wasn't quite as spectacular as everyone claimed. Yes, he was decent at magic, and yes, he was steadily improving, but there were students probably more skilled than him. Not that he'd ever mention such a thing to Dumbledore, or James. Nevertheless, he still waved back when Alexander excitedly said hello.

His gaze swept across to the other side of the classroom where the Slytherins were gathered around a tall black haired boy who was leaning against the wall–the perfect picture of an effortless aristocrat.

 _Ah yes, the famous Hadrian Riddle._

Remus had heard mixed opinions from all the professors about Hadrian Riddle. While the majority of them had sung his praises and claimed he would certainly be a fitting Minister of Magic some day, Dumbledore had claimed Riddle was a student to watch for darkness. Though even Minerva had reluctantly admitted the boy was certainly talented, Dumbledore still insisted there was something beyond the boy's perfect student façade.

Remus discreetly narrowed his eyes at Hadrian Riddle as he spoke with his friends. He had only seen the boy about twice–once during the dementor attack–but he didn't see anything overtly amiss about Riddle. Other than his name, of course.

Dumbledore had revealed to him that Hadrian was indeed the son of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. According to the Headmaster, Voldemort didn't know of his child, and Dumbledore seemed intent on keeping it that way. Though Remus was slightly uncomfortable with letting the boy believe he was an orphan, he supposed this _was_ the only way.

Besides, Dumbledore could in fact be correct in his suspicions. Hadrian Riddle _was_ a Slytherin, and he _was_ connected to the Malfoys and the Lestrange families–both of which were notorious for being avid Death Eaters. Though he was surprised Bellatrix was human enough to reproduce, and her heir was somehow a _Gryffindor_ , of all things, it still didn't change the fact that the Lestranges were part of Lord Voldemort's merry band of murderers.

Dumbledore also claimed that Hadrian Riddle's mannerisms and charisma were the exact copy of his father's while he attended Hogwarts. Regardless of his captivating personality, Hadrian Riddle was _not_ to be trusted.

However, his friend Lily Potter had some other ideas on the subject of Hadrian Riddle. When he had absentmindedly mentioned the boy during one of their conversations after dinner, Lily had suddenly brightened up and her excited eyes turned as wide as saucers. Apparently, Lily believed Hadrian Riddle was _her_ son.

Remus briefly glanced at the boy who was laughing at something the Zabini boy had said. Grudgingly, he admitted that with Hadrian's dark hair and piercing green eyes, he could easily be James and Lily's son, Harry. There was just one problem: Harry Potter had died several years ago when the Potters had sent him away.

He had been there to console Lily when she cried for days. She had barricaded herself in her room, and even James couldn't take down all her locking charms. While James had given up after a few days–claiming his wife would come out and act like an adult whenever she was ready–Remus stood outside her door everyday. He begged her to eat something, or open the door. Almost a week later when she opened the door, Remus staggered back at her appearance. Though her cheeks were stained with tears, her ribs were poking out of her loose shirt, and her hair was equivalent to a nest atop her head, he still took care of her. A couple days later, James joined them and they tried to nurse Lily back to normal. Eventually her tears stemmed, and she seemed to be fully functioning again. But Remus knew she would never be the same.

His heart broke for Lily, who could never accept her son's death. She claimed Harry had died because she had sent him away, and she'd never been able to move on. Even her other son, Alexander wasn't enough to bring her out of the somber daze she'd been in since the news of Harry.

Remus shook his head to clear away his thoughts and turned to face the class. He was so absorbed in his internal musings that he realized the class had already started. A few minutes later, his students quieted down at the feel of his gaze on them.

He cleared his throat and announced, "Welcome to Defense Against the Dark Arts. This class is going to be more of a practical application than textbook readings like you've had in the past. The point of defense is to use it, not simply read about it," He paused and smiled when he saw he held the entire class's attention, "Now today, we're going to do a basic exercise to introduce us to our topic this week."

He turned around and gestured dramatically to the shaking black wardrobe behind. The students flinched at the rattling and took an involuntary step back.

Remus grinned, "Can someone tell me what they believe this is?"

"It's a wardrobe, Sir!" Someone called out cheekily from the back.

He rolled his eyes, "Thank you, Mr. Thomas. I'm sure we're all aware this is a wardrobe. I meant, what is inside the wardrobe?"

"It's most likely a boggart, Professor Lupin. They're prone to hide in dark, enclosed spaces," Hadrian Riddle said coolly, crossing his arms over his chest, "They show you your greatest fear."

"Very good, Mr. Riddle." Remus praised him, "Now can someone tell me what a boggart looks like?"

The tall blonde beside Riddle raised an eyebrow, "That's a trick question. No one knows the true form of a boggart because it changes based on each individual's fear. I could see a Banshee, but Potter over there could see his mum."

Remus tried to suppress the class's snickering, and quickly muttered, "I don't care much for the additional snarky comment, Miss. Greengrass, but that was correct. Ten points to Slytherin." He addressed the class again, "There is only one way to get rid of a boggart, and that is to say the incantation 'Ridikkulous'. Now, everyone say it with me… Ready? Ridikkulous!"

"Ridikkulous!" The entire class chorused.

"This class is ridiculous," Draco Malfoy muttered under his breath, rolling his eyes at the shaking wardrobe.

"Just for that comment Mr. Malfoy, why don't you go first?" Remus smiled innocently, gesturing for the boy to come forward.

The platinum blonde swaggered forward with a smirk on his face and stood in front of the class, confidently pointing his wand at the wardrobe. His proud stance was full of self-assurance and Remus began to feel slight pity for him.

He stared down the boy, "Now lift your wand and–"

"Not possible, Professor. Can't you see my arm is broken?" Malfoy drawled lazily.

"Ah yes, I heard of your unfortunate hippogriff incident. I guess what they say is true, only the worthy can control a majestic creature like that." Remus said tightly, trying to fight the smile that threatened to appear on his face.

The Malfoy brat scowled, "Are you calling me unworthy?"

"Mr. Malfoy, I'm telling you to prepare your wand, however you see fit."

The boy grumbled a bit and raised his hand–the one that was _not_ broken– and shot a readying glare at the professor.

"Now class, the incantation is not enough to repel a boggart. What really defeats a boggart is laughter. To face against a boggart, you must use your magic to force the boggart to assume the shape you find most amusing. Turn your fear into something to laugh about. Understand?" Remus lectured, glancing around his class for understanding. When he saw the majority of the class nod, he turned back to Draco.

"Are you ready, Mr. Malfoy?"

The boy grunted, which Remus assumed was a 'yes'. He stood behind him and drew his wand, unlocking the wardrobe. The class held their breaths as the double doors swung open.

A pale hand gripped the outside of the wood, and a stylish dragon-hide boot stepped out of the wardrobe. Soon, a man came into view with straight, long blonde hair and a cold expression permanently plastered on his face.

"Draco." Lucius Malfoy spoke, regarding his son with a sneer. "What's this I hear a mudblood is doing better in school than you?"

The man crept closer to Draco–who was frozen in place and paler than usual–and his eyes flashed angrily.

"It's a pity my only heir is so worthless, he can barely compete with a Mudblood. I knew I should've snapped your pathetic neck when I had the chance. Look at you, Draco. So _weak_. So _useless_. So prone to _failure_." The elder Malfoy mocked, a cruel sneer curling at his lips.

"Draco, use the incantation. It's just a boggart. Force it to become what you find amusing. Remember, the incantation." Remus urged. He placed a hand on the boy's shoulder, and physically shook him out of the strange trance he seemed to be in.

It seemed to do the trick, as Draco's eyes cleared and his mouth set into a determined frown. He raised his wand and shouted, "Ridikkulous!"

A spinning cloud of smoke enveloped the boggart, and suddenly Lucius Malfoy was clothed in fashionable women's dress robes. A bright fuchsia cloak hung loosely over his shoulders, and an extravagant white hat sat atop his pale blonde hair.

Draco laughed, the pain fading away from his face slowly. His breathing returned to normal as he saw his father prance around in ladies dress robes, and he finally moved from his frozen position.

"Look everyone, Malfoy's afraid of his Daddy!" Alexander Potter called out gleefully, causing most of the Gryffindors to erupt into laughter.

The Malfoy boy turned red, but he refused to say anything. He shuffled back over to where the Slytherins were congregated without a word. Remus noticed many of the Slytherins were also pale, no doubt sharing the same fear of their cruel parents. Destiny Lestrange patted Draco's shoulder comfortingly, and whispered something that caused him to smile weakly.

Remus did not comment, though he could certainly understand the young Malfoy's fear. When he was still in Hogwarts, his own DADA professor had done the same boggart introduction. His old friend Sirius Black's boggart had been relatively similar at the time; though it had been his mother Sirius was afraid of, not his father. Not that anyone could blame Sirius, Walburga Black truly was a horror.

Remus refused to let his mood turn sour at the thought of Sirius Black, and so he turned around and instructed the class to form a line.

"Mr. Malfoy did an excellent job, but now it's time for you all to try. Remember the incantations, and try your best to remember it's simply a boggart." He reminded as the class fought to stand in line.

Somehow Ronald Weasley was forced at the beginning of the line, and he gulped as the boggart shifted into a variety of shapes. Eventually the boggart turned into a giant spider, and it snapped its pincers threateningly towards the boy.

"Blimey," His voice squeaked, "That's a bloody big spider."

He stared in horror as the spider inched closer, and only after Remus prompted him to utter the incantation did Ronald realize what to do. He raised his wand shakily and blurted out, "Riddikulous."

A roller skate was added to each of the spider's legs and it struggled to stay upright, fumbling and slipping across the floor.

As the rest of the class laughed at the spectacle, Parvati Patil stepped up to the front of the line. Her boggart took the form of a bloodied mummy, and she gulped nervously as it came closer to her. Luckily, she seemed to gather her wits and shouted the incantation before the monster came any closer to her.

As every new student stepped forward, the boggart continued to shift shapes. Though most of his students were afraid of traditional spiders, snakes, and banshees, to Remus's utter amusement, some boggarts took the shape of Minerva and Severus.

Daphne Greengrass stepped forward hesitantly after Dean Thomas's severed hand had been changed into a dancing sock puppet. Her posture was rigidly straight, and her face remained expressionless as the boggart began to change in front of her eyes.

To her horror, the boggart fell to the floor and assumed the form of a corpse. The boggart multiplied and several more of these corpses appeared, causing Daphne Greengrass to gasp sharply.

Remus could easily pinpoint the corpses to be of Astoria Greengrass, Hadrian Riddle, Destiny Lestrange, and two adults whom Remus assumed to be Daphne's parents. The corpses began to multiply and more of her friends and family appeared to be dead, bleeding out on the floor with unblinking eyes.

Daphne gritted her teeth together, and she seemed to be chanting, "It's not real, it's not real," under her breath. She raised her wand unwaveringly and spoke firmly, "Ridikkulous."

The bodies changed from corpses and became dressed up in a clownish getup. Remus could see Daphne let out a relieved breath, though the pain in her features hadn't faded completely. Her hands were glued to her sides as she walked back to the group of Slytherins.

When she reached the group, Hadrian Riddle gently tugged on her arm and pulled her against his chest in a fierce embrace. He wrapped his arms around her shaking frame and seemed to be whispering something to her, making her nod slightly, though her eyes still seemed a bit teary. Her friends all muttered comforting words, and Remus turned away, feeling as though he was intruding on a private moment.

"Who's next?" He asked, ignoring the glares most of the Slytherins directed at him.

"Me!" Alexander Potter shouted, roughly shoving aside the short boy who had been standing at the front of the line. Before Remus could object, the boggart had already begun shifting its form.

The boggart expanded to an enormous size, and towered over the entire class. It began to hiss and slither slowly towards the students. To his horror, Remus realized what the giant snake thing was–

"Basalisk." Hadrian Riddle breathed in awe, staring at the large snake with a mixture of astonishment and fear.

Alexander had frozen in fear, and his brain thudded with a strange memory of the giant snake. The basilisk boggart opened its jaws wide, and the venom could be seen dripping from its razor teeth and sizzling onto the floor. Its eyes were bright yellow and unforgiving.

Alexander Potter took one look at the lethal eyes, before promptly collapsing onto the ground.

Remus Lupin ignored the screaming of his class and he leaped in front of Alexander, closing his eyes until he could hear the boggart changing its shape. When he opened his eyes, he faced his familiar fear of the full moon. He uttered the Ridikkulous charm and the moon turned into a balloon, flying across the class as it ran out of air. Remus quickly sued his wand to direct the balloon back into the wardrobe, and he locked the doors as fast as he could manage.

He wheezed heavily as he tried to regain his breath, trying to calm his heartbeat until he seemed less terrified. When he returned to a normal state, he turned back to the utterly frightened class. Everyone was silent for a minute as they recollected their composures.

One of the Gryffindors hesitantly walked up to where Alexander Potter was sprawled on the floor. She gasped, covering her mouth with her hands in shock.

"Oh Merlin! The snake thing paralyzed him! He's dead!" She shouted in panic.

Destiny Lestrange lightly kicked the boy's side with her foot, and observed the way his chest seemed to be rising and falling even though he was unconscious, "He's not dead," She rolled her eyes, "I think he just fainted from the fear. Basilisk or not, the thing was just a boggart. It doesn't have the same deadly qualities as an actual Basilisk."

Remus Lupin cleared his throat, "I think that concludes today's lesson. Er–read pages 120-145 in your textbook for Thursday," He paused and gestured to his godson, "Can some of Alexander's housemates take him to the hospital wing? Class dismissed."

 **[September 9** **th** **]**

After almost two months of being held captive at Riddle Manor–with that _monster_ , known as Lord Voldemort–Sirius Black was wrought with internal turmoil. It was one thing to break out of Azkaban like the criminal he never was, but it was another to actually reside at the not-so-humble abode of the wizarding world's greatest enemy.

What was more horrifying was when he realized he didn't want to leave the comfort of the Manor just yet.

In his defense, after spending years shoved into a dingy little cell in Azkaban Prison–serving time for a crime he never committed–it wasn't as if anyone could blame him for seeking refuge in the luxury of Riddle Manor.

At Riddle Manor, he wasn't degraded to a status likened to a vicious animal. At Riddle Manor, he wasn't forced into a cramped, dirty cell. Even _Lord Voldemort_ was more humane than the guards and dementors at Azkaban.

When Bellatrix had first dragged him into the impressive Manor, Sirius had expected to be thrown into the medieval-style dungeon or chained in a cold cellar upon arrival. To his surprise, he was ushered into a massive luxurious suite with fluffy eirdown pillows and 24/7 house elf service.

His new closet–which was stocked completely with perfectly tailored, expensive clothes and shoes–was about four times larger than his old cell in Azkaban. Every week, a discrete witch working at some ritzy parlor would come in and trim his hair, styling his appearance so he was the perfect picture of a pureblood gentleman.

He was free to roam the broad estate of Riddle Manor, though some areas were still restricted due to highly secure wards. He had discovered that the hard way when he attempted to sneak into one of the locked meeting rooms. He did try to keep his exploring of the Manor to a minimum though, for fear of running into one of the Death Eaters and accidentally initiating a duel. It was quite difficult for him to fight back without a wand. In fact, his lack of wand was the only physical evidence signifying his prisoner status.

Nevertheless, Sirius was a man of strong loyalty. Earlier in his lifetime he'd have sworn up and down that he'd rather rot in Azkaban than be one of Lord Voldemort's _guests_.

But his fellow members of the Order didn't know what they were swearing when they expressed similar vows of loyalty. They'd never been to Azkaban. It was easy to say that they'd rather go to Azkaban if they'd never suffered in its rotting cells. The truth was that they never understood the true extent of Azkaban. He wasn't sure how he'd even survived. The prison didn't just physically ruin someone; it broke their minds and destroyed their soul.

But Sirius had survived. He had stayed loyal to the Order, even though the Order had turned its back on him. Even if he was residing in the enemy's den, he was sure he was still loyal to the Order.

The only reason he had stayed at Riddle Manor this long was because of the niggling doubt that kept appearing in his mind after Harry–or Hadrian, his new name these days–presented him with the stack of newspapers.

Sirius had spent days re-reading the newspapers and the hurtful things his best friend, James Potter, had said about him. It was hard to believe that his best friend would do something like this. Yet, Sirius had faith in his friend, even after all the newspaper headlines and "direct quotes".

There had to be an explanation to James's harsh words. Perhaps James had an ulterior motive, or maybe the papers were all lying and he never said any of those words. Newspapers _could_ lie. Sirius knew he had to seek answers, but he couldn't do that while he was stuck in Riddle Manor. And thus, he decided to pay his friend a visit.

It wasn't hard to swipe the wand off of one the drunken Death Eaters one night. As the poor sod snored heavily against the wall, Sirius pocketed his wand. He waited until he knew Voldemort had gone somewhere outside the country, and he carefully crept outside just when everyone had settled down for dinner.

The difficult part was getting past the wards, not sneaking past his guards. While the guards could be outsmarted, the wards certainly could not. Earlier that week, he had tested the wards, and discovered that they were meant to trap him inside.

However, the wards were not engineered to trap his _other_ form inside, Sirius quickly discovered. Thus, he had changed into his animigus form earlier that evening and easily slipped past the wards.

He ran in his animigus form for what seemed like hours until he finally emerged out of the forest and found an apparition point. He struggled to recall the exact location of Potter Manor, and settled to apparate a few kilometers away from the estate so as to not trigger any defensive wards.

Sirius roamed through the forest in his animigus from to not attract any suspicion for a while. It began to rain and lighting flashed several times in the now darkened sky before he finally saw the exquisitely designed Potter Manor through the branches. It was time to get some answers.

* * *

James Potter tensed the second he entered his private study. He reached slowly for his wand, which was tucked into his Auror robes. He surveyed the large room discreetly as he carefully crept around, his eyes darting around in obvious paranoia.

"James." A familiar voice spoke from the shadows.

Auror Potter stilled, his blood turning to ice as he realized he knew that voice. That voice that had laughed with him, teased him, spoken to him, bared his soul to him all those years ago. He felt a fresh wave of panic wash over him and he gripped his wand for reassurance. He tried to turn around, but to his utmost dismay, he felt his feet glued in one place. Instead, he settled for just turning his head in the direction of the voice.

"Sirius Black…." James trailed off, tasting the disdain on his tongue, "It's been years."

As the shadows concealing his figure melted away, Sirius Black stepped forward with a cautious look on his face. His hands were glued to his sides, and his eyes seemed to hold an indecipherable emotion. With his expertly styled hair and expensive black robes, he looked rather well for someone who had broken out of Azkaban just a month before.

"I don't want to hurt you, James." Sirius Black spoke quietly, digging his wand out of his pocket. "If I free your legs, I don't want a fight? Understand?"

When James conceded, Sirius muttered a spell under his breath and waved his wand. A few seconds later, James experimentally shook his legs to check if they were truly freed. He turned around to face his former best friend when he was satisfied.

"You must be wondering why I came here. Especially since you're leading the manhunt for me." Sirius began. "I'm risking a lot coming here. But I'm not here to hurt you, James. I want an explanation. I want to know what could cause my _best_ _friend_ to lose all faith in me and call me a heinous _criminal_. What could possibly cause you to betray me this way?"

A furious shade of red crept up his neck, and James Potter felt himself grow angry at his former best friend's words. He jerked his head back as though someone had slapped him and growled, "Betray _you_? Let's talk about how you betrayed _me_ , betrayed the entire _Order_!"

"I did no such thing!" Sirius hissed at the mere insinuation that he would do anything to hurt the ones who had basically been his only family.

"I _helped_ you get away from your crazy blood-supremacist family back when we were in Hogwarts! My family _took you in_ when no one else would! We were all there for you–Me, Moony, and Wormtail! But then you turned against us!" James Potter yelled, his glasses becoming askew on his face from his violent hand motions. He shook his head in disgust, leaning back against his large oak desk, "Once a Death-Eater-Black, always a Death-Eater-Black, I suppose."

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean, Potter?" Sirius snarled, magic crackling angrily around his curly hair.

"It means you're just like your Death-Eater family, Black! Born to serve a raging madman and serve at his every beck and call. I bet you ran straight to your _dear_ master as soon as you broke out of Azkaban with everyone else!" James sneered.

"I'm _not_ a Death Eater!" Sirius barked, yanking his sleeve up to show his bare, dark mark-free arm, "I'm not one of _them_! I did nothing to betray you! _"_

James Potter snapped, and lunged at the ex-convict. His hands wrapped around Sirius's throat, and his eyes were alight with fire as he hissed, "You call killing twelve muggles 'nothing'? You call turning your back on all of us and joining those Death Eaters 'nothing'? We _saw_ the evidence. You killed those innocent muggles and cast the dark mark in the sky! You were one of them all along!"

Sirius felt his eyes water, and he blinked, shocked at the sudden revelation. He felt his throat closing up, and he choked out, "I didn't do it."

"Shut up." James hissed, pressing harder at his neck until Sirius could see black spots in his vision.

"James…please," He rasped, "Just listen to me. I'm begging you."

James Potter faltered, and the hostile expression on his face lost a bit of its intensity. He gritted his teeth together and angrily pushed away Sirius in disgust.

Sirius gasped at the sudden rush of air that flooded into his lungs, and he lay wheezing on the floor until he regained a steady breathing rate. When he felt his throat stop burning, he shook his head slowly and whispered, "I didn't do it."

"Yeah right, Padf–Black. We _saw_ you." James snorted, walking back to his desk. He threw himself into the chair behind the desk and propped his legs up onto the surface. "The evidence stacks dealing with your case are taller than you, and not to mention, I have fucking eyes and I saw you there!"

"James, I don't remember this event even _happening_. I must've been imperioused, because I'd never do anything like that, and you _know_ that." Sirius pleaded.

"I don't _know_ who you are anymore." James muttered, glancing out the window. "I couldn't even recognize you that day with that cruel look in your eye and that satisfied smile you wore when you saw all those mutilated bodies."

Sirius felt himself get sick at the mere description of the event, and he sucked in a deep breath. "James, I swear to you, I swear on our entire friendship, I swear I never did what you are accusing me of. I must've been imperioused!"

James shrugged, "That's what all those Death Eaters use as an excuse," He paused and glared hatefully at Sirius, "Who knows what else you've been behind. You could've tortured Harry and Alexander, for all I know."

"Harry?" Sirius frowned, "I'd never do such a thing. He told me–It doesn't matter! You know _me_ , James. I cannot believe after everything we've been through, you'd think I'd do something as horrible as _that_."

James Potter was quiet for a while, and his eyes seemed to be debating an internal conflict. Finally, he let out a frustrated sigh, "Padfoot, I want to believe you. Trust me, I want to believe you so badly. But there's so much evidence–"

"Please, James. Believe me. I would never join that horrible group of merry murderers. I'd never hurt you, or your family, or the Order. I'd even take veritaserum if you want me to prove my innocence."

James Potter studied his sincere expression, and after a long moment of silence he raised an eyebrow, "Would you really take veritaserum?"

Sirius did not hesitate in responding, "Absolutely. Anything to prove to you I'm innocent."

Suddenly, the harsh look dropped from James Potter's face and his eyes softened, "I believe you."

"Really? I can take veritaserum, if you'd like." Sirius insisted.

James stood up from his desk and quickly crossed the distance between them, patting Sirius on the back roughly. "I believe you, Padfoot. You'd never offer to take veritaserum if you weren't telling the truth."

Sirius felt his shoulders sag with relief, and a smile curled up at his lips, "I've missed you, Prongs. It's been so long." His face darkened slightly, "And those years seem to drag on especially in Azkaban."

James Potter led Sirius over to the pair sturdy armchairs and gestured for him to sit. He turned to the reach for two crystal tumblers and a bottle of Ogden's Firewhisky and began pouring out two drinks for the two of them. He handed Sirius a drink and settled into the armchair, "Why don't you tell me about it over some firewhisky?"

And Sirius did. He recounted his tale of horror, albeit reluctantly, and James Potter nodded along sympathetically. He explained all that had happened to him, and the abuse he had suffered from at the hands of the guards. His voice felt raw as he retold all the humiliation and pain he had gone through during his stay in Azkaban.

James stood up, just as he was wrapping up his entire experience. He winced apologetically and explained, "I'm going to duck out to the loo, but help yourself to some more firewhisky." His face lit up as a sudden thought occurred to him, "Oh, I'm going to wake up Lily! She'll be delighted to see you," He paused and added sheepishly, "You know, once we explain everything. Otherwise, she might just murder you if she even sees your face."

Sirius chuckled nervously, but poured himself some firewhisky as James left the room. He couldn't believe his friend had accepted him again, despite all he had been through. He was about to take a sip of the drink, when suddenly the doors to the study were softly pushed open.

"That was quick–Oh hello, Lily!" Sirius exclaimed. He raised an eyebrow at her lack of reaction and asked, "Did you see James?"

Lily Potter quickly shut the doors behind her, and her eyes darted around the study in obvious paranoia. She walked closer to the man, and he tensed in his armchair, afraid she would actually murder him on sight.

"You need to get out of here, Sirius." She spoke quickly, "It's James–He called the Aurors the second he left the study. They'll be here any minute."

His jaw slackened, and a trickle of doubt crept into his mind, "No, he wouldn't–I just–We just spoke, he understood me. He forgave me!"

"Trust me. My husband…" Lily's words trailed off and she shook her head, "He's not the same man he used to be. This war has changed him. He is not your best friend anymore."

"He didn't believe me?" Sirius whispered, gazing out the window in an effort to control his emotions, "After all this time, I thought–"

"Sirius!" She hissed, "Now is _not_ the time. I have to get you out of here, or you'll be thrown back in Azkaban!"

Sirius ignored her warnings and continued to stare out he window with a troubled expression. "Do you believe me, Lily?" He asked.

"Of course I do. My husband may be blind to the truth, but I know you would _never_ do that to us. We were _family_."

"Why is everyone helping me all of a sudden? First Bellatrix, then you. I can't trust anyone these days, can I?" He wondered, sipping out of his glass unhurriedly, "It seems strange."

"Sirius," Lily placed a hand on his shoulder, looking at him with pleading eyes. "If I don't help you get out of here, they'll catch you. They'll give you the Kiss. They won't wait to throw you back into Azkaban. They'll _kill_ you on sight!"

He locked his gaze on her, and finally nodded when he saw the sincerity in her eyes. He set his glass back onto the side table and let Lily lead him out of the study. They ran through different halls and Lily guided him through the various rooms and corridors of Potter Manor.

They heard the pounding of heavy footsteps coming in their direction, and Lily shoved him behind a set of heavy velvet curtains. Sirius felt himself stop breathing as the footsteps approached closer to their location. He presumed they were the Aurors James had called.

He nearly jerked back in fear when he heard a deep voice address Lily.

"Lady Potter, please do not be alarmed, but Auror Potter reported the fugitive Sirius Black snuck onto your property about half an hour ago. Have you seen him anywhere? We are assuming he could be anywhere in this Manor."

"Dear Merlin! He's in this Manor?" Lily paused and suddenly gasped, "Could he be near the East stairwell? I heard some loud noises there when I was walking over to James's study, but I thought it was a house-elf!"

There was some murmuring and the Auror responded gruffly, "We'll go check over there, Ma'am. Do not be alarmed. In the meantime, we would like for you to stay right here. We'll have Auror Jenkins protect you in case the criminal passes by here."

"I don't need protection! I'm an abled witch, Auror Finneran. Thank you for your concern, but you seem to be forgetting I fought in multiple battles with Death Eaters. I can handle _one_ Sirius Black." Lily sniffed haughtily.

"Lady Potter, we insist–"

"There's a murderer roaming this house and yet, you're still arguing with me? Is this what my husband pays you lot for?" She snapped, "I can take care of myself. It's your job to go find him, so do it!"

After her angry berating, the Auror force immediately scattered and the hall was silent as the sound of their footsteps began to fade away. Sirius heard Lily exhale in relief, and she quickly ripped aside the heavy curtain when she was sure the coast was clear.

"We don't have much time, we have to leave _now_." Lily whispered, taking his hand and dragging him through the hall. She checked the around the corner and quickly ushered him into another darkened corridor. The voices around them were distant, but Sirius knew they had surrounded the property.

Lily tapped her wand against a portrait that hung crookedly on the wall, and it swung open. A set of steps descended into the secret passage, and from what Sirius could see, it was completely pitch dark.

"This passage is underground, and it will take you to a safe part of the forest outside of the property. There's an apparition point nearby, so you can go wherever you need to from there." She explained, checking behind her back to make sure no one could see them.

Sirius nodded and stepped into the unlit passageway. He paused and regarded the pretty redhead with kind eyes, "Thank you for believing me. What can I ever do to repay you, Lily?"

"I just need to know one thing." She began.

"Anything, Lily." Sirius promised.

Her eyes were intense as she whispered softly, "Harry. I need to know if–if he's still alive. I heard you, you know. I was listening outside the study while you and James were fighting. You were about to say, 'Harry told me', but then you stopped yourself. James didn't notice, but I did. Why did you stop, Sirius? You said Harry told you something. But that's impossible," She paused, "Dumbledore told me Harry was dead."

His eyes flashed. "Don't trust him anymore, Lily. For both our sakes."

Lily grabbed his hands, and looked up at him with teary eyes, "I'm begging you to tell me, Sirius. I already made a mistake once. I need to know if my son–my Harry–is alive. _Please_."

Sirius felt his resolve crumble when he looked at the pain in her eyes. He gently pressed his lips against her tear-stained cheek, as though he were kissing her goodbye.

Almost inaudibly he whispered, "He's alive, Lily. But he's not _your_ son, and he's not _your_ Harry anymore."


	5. Abandon

**Potter Manor [September 10** **th** **]**

Lily Potter absentmindedly poured herself a cup of tea, staring out the large floor to ceiling windows that bathed her kitchen in the brightest light. Her feet were clad in a pair of fluffy pink bunny slippers and her hair was tied messily in a bun at the nape of her neck. As she sat at the hand-carved mahogany breakfast table, she couldn't help but think tiredly of the previous night.

After she had helped Sirius escape unscathed, she had returned to the foyer only to find her husband's men still prowling the entire grounds for any sign of the "traitor". She had watched their entire search from the landing of the main staircase, her features devoid of all emotion in order to conceal her disgust with the entire situation.

He was James's _best_ friend.

Lily felt sick as she watched the Aurors break down doors in her home, and curse any moving creature in their path in their pursuit of Sirius. With their wands drawn and the harsh look in their eyes, Lily knew they wouldn't hesitate to kill him.

She thought James had known Sirius better than anyone. They had been closer than brothers when they were growing up. Those two were inseparable, and Lily had thought nothing could ever pull them apart.

But that was back when everything was simple. That was when her husband didn't turn his wand on his friends. That was when he didn't turn his back on his family. Back when he was the man she had fallen in love with.

This man, the one who convinced her to abandon her child forever, he was _not_ her James. This man, the one who had called a search party and turned against his best friend, he was _not_ her James.

Lily knew Sirius was innocent. She had no evidence, and no possible way of proving his innocence, but she _knew_ in her heart that Sirius Black was not capable of murder. She hadn't believed it when he was first accused, and she certainly did not believe it now.

When she had heard the raised voices in James's study last night, she had quietly crept down the stairs and pressed her ear against the door. She listened to Sirius's pleading, and she had heard the sincerity in his voice. She thought James had heard it too, until he left the study and immediately called his Auror base to capture the "criminal" in his home.

Lily gripped the handle of the teacup tightly until her knuckles turned white. She remembered how her blood had boiled at her husband's actions, and in that moment, she didn't think. She burst into the study, fully intent on helping Sirius escape.

It was only when Sirius had expressed his gratitude did Lily remember the conversation she had overheard earlier: Sirius had mentioned Harry had spoken to him.

But before she and James had abandoned him, Harry hadn't spoken a word to anyone. In fact, Harry's first words had been a cruel surprise to them both.

The familiar ache in her chest grew as she replayed Harry's first words, the piercing reminder of her heartless actions all those years ago. His first words had been an eerily calm expression of hatred, and they still haunted her memories.

There was no possible way for Sirius to have spoken to Harry before his wrongful imprisonment in Azkaban. Which led Lily to the conclusion he must've spoken to Harry _after_ breaking out of Azkaban.

But Dumbledore had said Harry was dead. He had looked her in the eyes, and had admitted her darling boy had died. The old coot had given her no explanation, shown her no body, and had all but demanded she accept his death.

Everyone who had known of Harry's existence had given her pitying looks, thinking she was crazy for still holding onto the hope that Harry was alive.

"Poor Lily," they'd say in hushed voices, "She's so distraught she can't see the truth."

But Sirius had told her the truth.

 _Her Harry was alive._

The thought caused her hands to shake involuntarily, and she automatically set her teacup down.

He was _alive_. Breathing, living, conscious– _alive_. She wringed her hands in her lap as she thought of her son, her Harry. She wondered where he was. What he was doing. Was he roaming the streets of London, forced to beg for a living? Did someone take him in? Did anyone help her poor, lonely boy?

"Morning, Lily." Her husband walked into the kitchen, startling her from her thoughts. He pressed a kiss to her hair, not noticing the way she tensed away from his touch.

He grabbed a plate of eggs with toast the house elves had made earlier and that morning's newspaper before sliding into a seat across from her at the table. There was not a single sign of unease on his face.

He gestured to the teapot in front of her, "Can you pour me a cup?"

Lily nodded after a brief second of hesitation. She picked up the teapot and walked to the cabinet, pulling out another teacup and saucer. She set the cup in front of him and spooned in exactly two spoons of sugar first, just as she knew he liked it.

As she began to pour the tea, she couldn't help but watch her husband eagerly flip through the Quidditch section.

He didn't look visibly affected by the events of last night. She supposed it was because he believed Sirius had truly been guilty of the crime, and last night had done nothing to change his mind. He still believed Sirius was capable of such a betrayal. He was too stubborn to believe otherwise.

"Merlin, Lily! Watch what you're doing!" James Potter bellowed suddenly.

With a start, she realized the teacup had been overfilled, and the liquid had dripped over the edge of the table. She quickly set the teapot back down.

James cursed under his breath as the scorching tea dripped onto his lap. He shook his head and pulled out his wand, cleaning up the mess with a sharp flick. He scowled angrily at his wife, who ducked her head to avoid his furious gaze.

"Sorry, dear." Lily murmured, moving back to sit in her seat.

He sighed heavily, "It's alright. Just be more careful next time."

Lily nodded. She returned back to her original task of staring blankly out the windows, focusing on the line of trees at the edge of the property.

Harry had liked to wander off toward those trees. She had been concerned at first–what mother would allow her six year old to gallivant in the woods without proper supervision? But she had seen how much happier he had been after he came back, and she didn't want to take that away from him. The protective wards she had set up around his little spot had also done much to ease her worries.

Had anyone protected him after he disappeared from Petunia's home, though? If he wasn't there, and he wasn't at Hogwarts, where was he? She was sure Sirius knew somehow, but there would be no way to contact him without getting the both of them caught.

"Lily!"

She glanced up abruptly, only to be met with her husband's annoyed glare.

"What is wrong with you today? This is the fourth time I've asked you to pass the milk!" He exclaimed, utterly befuddled with her vacant behavior.

"Of course, dear," She smiled blandly, passing the porcelain pitcher without complaint.

Her husband assessed her distant expression for a quick second. He shrugged, dismissing her strange behavior. He began to pour the milk, and turned back to read his newspaper.

Lily stirred her own tea, noticing how the light flooding in from the windows glinted off the sparkling diamonds on her wedding band. Her head cocked to the side, fascinated by the way it glimmered beautifully in the light.

It was certainly lovely, but it felt quite heavy on her hand all of a sudden.

She shook her head, shaking away her perturbing thoughts. This was not the time to think such things. This was the time to find her son. Now that she knew Harry was alive, she should be looking for him. She should be perusing the library, searching for ways to locate him, and bring him back home.

Lily bit her lip as an errant thought wormed itself into her mind–what if Harry didn't want to come home?

Her train of thought was interrupted when she felt a hand cover her own, stopping her from continuing to mechanically stir her tea.

"Yes, dear?" She responded automatically, barely glancing up to look her husband in the eyes.

"You've been stirring that damn tea for almost ten minutes, Lily," Her husband informed her in a scathing tone. He paused, and his brows furrowed in suspicion, "Is something the matter?"

She hesitated.

James never cared for Harry. She had seen it in her husband's eyes from the moment Harry was born. He'd always favored Alexander, and he'd never connected with his other son. The fact that Alexander was the Chosen One only served as an excuse for James to neglect his other son. James was all too happy to abandon Harry in favor of training, Alexander. Something about Harry just put her husband at unease, and Lily could see that clearly now.

He didn't even seem all that affected when Dumbledore had reluctantly informed them of Harry's "death".

A cold feeling crept into Lily's bones. Dumbledore had told her Harry was _dead_. He had _lied_ to her. He had refused to look further into Harry's disappearance, and had broken his promise to protect _both_ her sons. Just because Harry wasn't their precious Savior didn't mean he was _disposable_.

 _But you left him to die,_ her subconscious taunted, _you abandoned him. You didn't even visit him once. He's gone because of you._

"Lily? I asked if anything was wrong?" James waited expectantly, flipping the page to the Ministry section.

Lily glanced up at her husband. He didn't care about Harry. He never did. Her stomach twisted in knots as she grimly realized she didn't even know her husband anymore. How could she love a man who would force her to abandon her son? How could she love a man who was happier if her son was considered to be dead?

If he could lead a manhunt for his best friend, what would he do to a son he never loved? Perhaps it would be wiser to keep the news about her son to herself.

"Lily?" James Potter repeated, staring at her curiously now.

Lily Potter shook her head, and plastered a benevolent smile onto her face. "There's nothing wrong, dear," She took a sip of her tea, "Pass the sugar?"

 **Entrance Hall [September 10** **th** **]**

"Daphne said that Neville and Destiny wandered off to Hogsmeade earlier–something about a divination project," Draco rambled, jumping down the steps two at a time, "Blaise went to go get the mudbl–Granger and he–"

"Is right here." Blaise finished, appearing at the bottom of the staircase with Hermione in tow. She had pulled back her mountain of bushy hair into a neat braid and for once, Hadrian could actually see her pretty pixie-like features without her frizz enveloping her face.

"You look lovely, as always." Hadrian smiled, "I like the hair."

Hermione blushed, "Thank you, Hadrian."

Draco sniffed, "I personally think the fluffy mop look you have on everyday looks better. It's endearing, even. At least then we don't have to see your muggle face–"

"Hello to you too, pointy and pale," Hermione rolled her eyes exasperatedly. "Can't you at least be creative with your insults? It's always muggle this, and bushy hair that. Aren't you third in our class? Can't you come up with _anything_ better?"

Draco shrugged, "Fine, Beaver."

She narrowed her eyes, but before she could respond Blaise cut in, "It's our first Hogsmeade trip, and I am _not_ going to spend it breaking up your fighting! Now be civil, or I will hex you both!"

"Yes, Mother." Draco sneered, inspecting his nails with disinterest, "Can we go? Everyone else already headed down! Why didn't we leave earlier?"

"You seem excited." Hadrian commented, leaning against the banister with obvious amusement.

"It's the first Hogsmeade visit!" Draco said defensively, "This is the first year we don't have to be cooped up in this horrid castle with its cold floors and drafty corridors during weekend. How can you _not_ be excited?"

Hadrian shrugged, "I'd say I'm appropriately enthused."

"Merlin 'appropriately enthused'? What are you, seventy?"

"Can someone get Daphne before Malfoy becomes even more testy?" Hermione snapped, rubbing her temples in annoyance. "Where is she anyways?"

Blaise pointed to a figure a couple feet away, "She's standing over there talking to McLaggen."

Hadrian snapped his eyes up and his tone seemed overly nonchalant as he said, "Hm. I didn't know they were friends."

"They're not." Hermione pursed her lips, "I'll go get her."

As Hermione walked over to fetch Daphne, Hadrian kept his unblinking gaze trained on one of the portraits lining the hall. Draco nervously glanced between Hadrian and where Daphne stood, but wisely chose not to say anything.

"So," Blaise turned to face them, "That breakout from Azkaban, huh?"

Hadrian and Draco turned to stare at him with matching incredulous expressions.

"What?" Blaise shrugged, "I thought–"

"You can think? Shocking." Draco remarked dryly. "What kind of transition was that? How are you in Slytherin?"

"It was small talk." Blaise defended, crossing his arms with a huff.

"Small talk is 'this is nice weather we're having' or 'how is your runes class going?' Not talking about something like _that_ in the middle of the bloody entrance hall you twit!" Draco hissed.

Hadrian sighed heavily and leaned against the bannister, "Would you both pretend as though you have brains and manners for the next three hours?"

"Hey–"

"I'll have you know–"

"Hello," Daphne interrupted what was sure to be an onslaught of protests from both Blaise and Draco, "How is everyone today?"

"Wonderful," Hadrian said before anyone could respond. He gestured to the boy laughing with his friends on other side of the staircase, "Why was McLaggen talking to you?"

Daphne shrugged delicately, "He wanted to ask about my Hogsmeade plans. Who knows? Gryffindors are strange."

Hadrian shot a calculating glance at the other boy, "Indeed." He smiled charmingly and casually wrapped an arm around Daphne's shoulders, leading her towards the castle doors, "Shall we go?"

* * *

"You know, when I asked you to Hogsmeade to study divination, I sincerely hope you didn't actually think we were going to study." Neville said, gesturing to the stack of divination textbooks Destiny had already piled onto the café table.

Destiny paused in the process of taking out her dream journal, and turned to face him with feigned confusion, "We're not studying?"

Neville traced the droplet of condensation that was running down his glass of water, averting his gaze, "I thought we were on a date so we could…you know…" his cheeks flushed slightly, "Hold hands and snog?"

"Was that supposed to be romantic?" Destiny raised an eyebrow, leaning back in her chair with a hidden smile.

"I got you daisies! Remember, your favorite?" Neville pointed to the flowers he had presented to her earlier that morning with a flourish, "Doesn't that count as romantic?"

"Relax. The books were just to mess with you," Destiny laughed, "It was quite comical to see you stutter and look so adorably flustered."

Neville scowled as he realized she had been playing him the entire time, "Are you telling me I carried your bag–which was filled with those bloody heavy divination textbooks– all the way here and got so worked up for some kind of prank?"

When she nodded, biting her lip to keep the grin off her face, he groaned loudly and sunk deeper into his chair. He pointed a finger at her accusingly, "You have been spending way too much time with those Weasley twins. Those bloody Gryffindors–"

Destiny leaned over and pressed her lips against his softly, effectively shutting him up. He was frozen at first, but then she felt him slowly smile against her lips. He gently reached his hand up to brush against her cheek.

Eventually Destiny pulled back, smiling at his dazed expression, "That satisfies your 'snogging' request. I'm sure we can work on the holding hands one."

Neville smirked and reached across the table, lacing his fingers with hers. "There. Now all my wishes have been granted."

The pair continued to chatter and tease each other, barely noticing as others passed by. They found they had plenty to talk about, but also plenty to argue about. Yet, the happy laughter coming from their table never seemed to end.

When their ordered food magically floated over to their table, Destiny cleared her throat, "Er…Neville? Can you let go of my hand now? I need them both to eat this sandwich."

* * *

"I'll get the next round of butterbeer. Draco, come help me?" Hadrian jerked his head towards the crowded counter. His friend sighed, and reluctantly got up from the booth to follow him.

As Hadrian walked to the counter, the crowd in the Three Broomsticks seemed to unintentionally part around him, letting him walk through without any hassle. Draco followed close behind, enjoying the cleared path. When they reached the counter, Hadrian smiled pleasantly at the barmaid and requested four more butterbeers.

Draco furrowed his brows in confusion, "Aren't you getting one too?"

Hadrian turned to face the room, resting his elbows on the counter in a deceptively casual position, "I have to meet up with someone soon," He began, keeping his gaze trained on the table full of their friends. "I need you to make up an excuse for me if anyone asks."

Draco frowned, glancing around them for any lingering ears before asking, "Who are you meeting _now?_ "

"Does it matter? I said to find me a solid excuse if anyone asks."

"Fine," Draco grumbled, grabbing the tray of butterbeers from the barmaid as she approached. Hadrian thanked her and handed her a few galleons. He plucked a glass of water off the tray and took a sip, watching the exit door carefully.

"Oh, and Draco?" Hadrian added, setting the glass on the counter. "Do me a favor and don't let that McLaggen anywhere near Daphne?"

Draco shook his head and sighed, "I suppose I can do that. But you better get me a stellar Christmas present for this."

He picked up the tray and walked back to the table, trying his best to balance the tray in his hands. He placed the drinks on the table and slid into his spot next to Blaise, ignoring the questioning looks he received.

"Why isn't Hadrian coming back?" Daphne asked curiously, glancing up at where Hadrian was still leaned against the counter.

"He said he was going to go meet up with someone." Draco grumbled, opening a bottle and taking a long drink. He gestured to the rest of the drinks, "Well, I'm not drinking these alone. Bottoms up."

"Oh?" Daphne raised an eyebrow, wondering whom Hadrian could be meeting up with now. But when she looked back at the counter, he was gone.

* * *

Hadrian looked skeptically at the crumpled up parchment in his hands, and then back at the worn down, eerie looking abandoned house he was standing in front of. He shuddered.

The Shrieking Shack looked to be completely worn down, and its windows and doors were completely boarded up. According to the letter, he was to blast open the back first floor window, and then crawl through the opening.

He sighed. They couldn't have met in a bookshop, or something less run down?

Hadrian reluctantly walked towards the back of the house, feeling the strong wind lift the edges of his Slytherin scarf as he moved. He pulled out his wand and quietly blasted off the wooden planks that had been nailed to shut the opening. With a quick glance over his shoulder to make sure he wasn't being followed, he reluctantly climbed through the open space.

His eyes quickly scanned the dark room he had entered, and his brows furrowed in puzzlement. The furniture in the shack had been completely destroyed, and bits and pieces of chairs and cushions were torn apart and scattered around the room in shambles. The air inside was musty and everything was covered in a thick layer of dust. It was as if no one had entered the shack in decades.

"The last time I came here, I was in my seventh year. It didn't look any better then, though."

Hadrian stilled as he heard the voice speak from behind him. His fingers gripped his wand tightly, and he turned around slowly.

"Uncle Sirius." He greeted stiffly, refusing to relinquish his deadly grip on his wand, "How nice it is to see you outside of the Manor."

Sirius smiled and sat down on one of the few chaises that remained intact in the destroyed shack. He gestured for Hadrian to sit, "You know, you do the whole 'politician sweet' thing quite well. It is rather horrifying considering you're only thirteen, but nevertheless it's impressive. Mother would be proud."

"What do you mean?" Hadrian asked, sitting cautiously on the rickety coffee table.

"Instead of saying 'how the bloody hell did you get out of your gilded cage?' you said it was nice to see me outside the manor. Tell me, who taught you? Certainly not Bellatrix." Sirius smirked.

"Narcissa, actually." Hadrian admitted, "And my father sometimes."

Sirius raised an eyebrow, "Now would that be your real father, or Lord fucking Voldemort?"

Hadrian flinched, "Don't say his name like that. He's done far more for me than my own–"

Sirius waved a hand unconcernedly, "I'm getting to that conclusion myself, thank you very much."

Hadrian pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation, "I'm not going to ask you how you left the Manor. I'm sure I'll find out later. I want to know why you–a man who is on every wanted poster in the entire wizarding England–wanted to see me here, of all places?"

Sirius shrugged, "I'm waiting for you to turn your back on me."

"Excuse me?"

"I'm waiting for you to betray me too," He explained, "At least then my options would become more clear to me."

"Are you drunk?" Hadrian rolled his eyes, "Why would I do that to you of all people?"

Sirius averted his gaze, choosing to look down at his feet as he confessed, "Because I did something horrible."

Hadrian felt his fingers clench around his wand, and he gritted his teeth together, "What did you do, Sirius? What happened?"

As Sirius glanced at his then-godson's electric green eyes, he found he couldn't stop himself from revealing what had happened the previous night, "I went to the Potter Manor. I got past the wards in my animigus form and I apparated to the Manor and I confronted James Potter."

Hadrian felt a heavy feeling of dread wash over him as Sirius continued to speak.

"I just wanted to know if he was truly leading the manhunt for me. I thought he believed me. He said he forgave me."

Hadrian rose from his seat, running his hands through his hair in obvious distress. If his father ever found out what Sirius had done–he–Hadrian didn't even want to think about it. He began to pace unsteadily, feeling himself grow angrier as the words tumbled out of his Uncle's mouth.

"He–James–He called the Aurors on me the second he got a chance. I really thought he'd believed me but he just wanted to keep me talking so he could distract me. He wanted to lull me into a false sense of security before he called the Aurors to execute me!"

Hadrian froze suddenly, and turned to face him with narrowed eyes, "Sirius…how did you escape, then? How are you _here?_ "

Sirius sunk deeper into the chair, "I had some help."

"From _whom_?" Hadrian prodded further, staring him down with suspicion.

"Lily Potter–your mother–"

"I know who she is, Sirius." He snapped, "Why? Why did that woman help you?"

"She believed me. She knew I could never _kill_ anyone, she knew I was innocent." Sirius insisted, though he seemed slightly disbelieving himself.

"What else? What else happened?" Hadrian hissed under his breath, feeling his magic crackle angrily around them.

"I may have accidentally told her–"

"What? What did you tell her, Sirius?" He growled, tensing up automatically.

"I told her that you were alive. She was so distraught; you should've seen her. The woman was a wreck–"

"You told her I was still alive?" Hadrian said in a deceivingly calm tone.

"Not exactly," Sirius winced, "I told her, her son, Harry Potter, was still alive."

" _Crucio_."

Hadrian watched in fascination as the man collapsed onto the wooden floor and jerked, twitched, and trembled with pain. His mouth had dropped open in silent screams, and his sharp features were twisted in agony.

Hadrian ground his teeth together and willed the power behind his curse to intensify until he heard Sirius Black shout so loudly, he felt like his eardrums would shatter. His lips twitched into a small smile as he watched the older man flail around on the floor, watched him as a trickle of blood began to dribble down from the corner of his mouth and from under his nails.

Sirius Black deserved this, Hadrian thought with vicious pleasure. He'd tried so hard to forget his past, but one month with this man and all his horrible memories were creeping back to him. His mother had chosen to abandon him, and he wanted her to suffer. He wanted them _all_ to suffer. He focused his gaze on Sirius. He'd start with this one first, though.

Hadrian cocked his head to the side, holding the curse for another twenty seconds or so. It was better this way. He lifted the curse eventually, and then waited for Sirius to regain his breath. The man wheezed, coughed, and spit out a mouthful of blood in disgust.

"T-Th-That was an unforgivable." He shuddered, "You-You used an unforgivable!"

Hadrian carefully sheathed his wand in his wrist holster, and raised an eyebrow, "Yes, I'm aware of that."

"You're-You're–"

"Taking care of my own problems," Hadrian paused, "All actions have consequences. Did you really think your foolhardy misdemeanor would result in _no_ punishments?"

"But you used the–"

"Cruciatus, yes. Quite effective, don't you think?" He raised an eyebrow, "It was either punishment at my hands, or my father's hands. And do you know what the Dark Lord would have done, had he found out about your little… _transgression_?"

"He would've killed me?" Sirius snorted, finding the strength to push himself into an upright position.

Hadrian chuckled darkly, "You'd have been lucky to die," He stepped closer to Sirius and his lips twisted into a cruel smirk, "He would've chained you in the dungeons and tortured you until you couldn't think," Hadrian stepped closer, "Then he would've starved you for months, painfully pushing you to the brink of unconsciousness, only to bring you back to the world of the living and torturing you once more," He watched the older man with a wicked glint in his eyes, "By the time he would've grown bored of you, you would've begged to be killed."

Sirius swallowed involuntarily.

"This is a war, Sirius Black. Your original side has already turned their backs on you. When will you understand, you don't _have_ a choice. The decision has been made for you, just like it was made for me." Hadrian spoke coldly.

"You always have a choice, Hadrian." Sirius insisted. "You don't have to be _this_."

"You have the _illusion_ of choice," Hadrian corrected. "You can be willing, or you can be reluctant, that is the only difference. Which one are you, Sirius Black?

"I–" He let out a shaky breath, feeling the lingering effects of Hadrian's cruciatus in his bones, "I'm tired of fighting everyone."

"Then don't fight back." Hadrian said simply.

* * *

When Hadrian finally entered the Slytherin common room, it was dark outside. Most of the castle had already gone to sleep, and he'd only been able to sneak back into Hogwarts through a secret passage, courtesy of Sirius Black, their newest recruit.

He was about to walk down to the stairs that led to their rooms, but he noticed someone sitting on the couch, staring at him expectantly.

"Daphne?" He said in surprise, "What are you still doing up?"

She was dressed in a long nightgown with a black satin robe tied around her slim waist, and it looked as though she was about to fall asleep. She blinked tiredly at him, "I was waiting for you to come back. Where were you?"

He glanced at the fireplace and said evasively, "I had to take care of some things."

"Did you–" She hesitated, rising up from the couch, "Did you get everything done, then?"

He smiled slightly, "I suppose."

Daphne nodded, moving closer to him until they were nearly touching. He was slightly taller than her, and so he looked down curiously at her when she hesitantly raised her hand up.

He held his breath as she gently ran her thumb alongside the edge of his jaw, holding his stare in her bright blue eyes. She paused for a second, and then stepped back almost reluctantly.

Daphne wiped the streak of red on her handkerchief, "You had a little something on your face."

He slowly reached for her hand and brought it up to his lips. Daphne peered at him from under her lashes as he pressed a kiss to the back of her hand, and they shared a look of mutual understanding.

"Thank you, Daphne." He smirked, "What would I ever do without you?"

She smiled impishly, "You'd probably die. It's just a guess, though."


	6. Blood

**A/N: So you all are probably extremely mad at me right now, and that's totally justified. I just took like 2+ months to update, If I was in your position I would quite literally kill the author (pls don't kill me–though that might get me out of student loans). I had a lot of writer's block writing this chapter because I had to re-arrange some of my timeline to make it work and ugh everything has been so crazy. But anyways, here is le new chapteur. Enjoy and review!**

 **Also if you have a question about the story, please make sure your review isn't from a guest account, otherwise I can't respond. The best ways to reach me are through PM on ffnet, or messaging me/sending me an ask on my tumblr page. (My username is also lovemyromance)**

 **HE'RES THE NEW CHAPTER!**

 **Hogwarts: Abandoned Classroom [November 5** **th** **]**

"One, two, _three_. One, two, _three_ –Stop it!" Blaise yelped, forcefully stepping away from the red-haired girl and tiredly collapsing onto a chair with an irritated huff. He pulled off his right shoe, cursing under his breath as he checked for the damage. Thankfully, only his hand-made Italian leather shoe seemed slightly scuffed, while his foot was left otherwise unharmed–this time. His lack of injury did not deter him from sending an angry scowl towards Ginevra Weasley, however.

To her credit, she _did_ look slightly ashamed at nearly mauling his foot for the sixth time that evening. But Blaise didn't think her guilt was enough to fix his crippled toes.

"No! No! No! Honestly, I'd say you were raised by donkeys rather than humans. Merlin, you're worse than a bloody cow with a peg leg," He hissed, running a hand through his perfectly coiffed hair in apparent distress.

"Hey!" She blurted out, angry red blotches appearing on her cheeks as he continued to belittle her lack of grace.

"It's called dancing, you twit, not some foot-stomping hippogriff mating ritual," He rambled, his frown becoming more severe as he continued with his barrage of insults.

"It's not like I'm purposely trying to be dreadful at this," She pointed out crossly, "I wasn't raised with fancy annual Christmas balls or world-class dance tutors to teach me! So excuse me if I don't know the difference between a traditional Wizard's waltz and a slow waltz!"

Blaise rolled his eyes upwards, as though he were begging the heavens above for some patience. He sucked in a deep breath and exhaled shakily, "The things I do for you, Hadrian Riddle."

Ginevra crossed her arms in frustration, "I don't understand why he even asked you to teach me how to dance. I don't care if you're some world-class ballroom dancer! Don't you have better things to do?"

"Clearly not if I'm stuck teaching you," Blaise snapped as he began to feel what little patience he had left wearing thin. He jumped up from the chair and extended his hand to her, "Now lets try this again, from the beginning. Remember, you turn _right_ on three. Then on the next count, you lean in towards my shoulder. It's not that difficult!"

Still glowering, Ginevra took his hand. She tried not to snap her spine into a permanently stiff position as she felt him yank her thin frame towards his. He curled his other arm around her waist and pulled her closer, pretending to ignore how she flinched away from his touch.

"Look at me, Ginevra. Not at your feet," He reminded her every time her eyes dropped to the floor in an attempt to control her footwork. Blaise leaned away slightly when she stared unblinkingly at his face with her panicked, wide-eyed gaze.

He grimaced, "I said look at me, not look as though you're trying to _murder_ me."

They silently moved together on the dance floor–which was really just an old Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom with the desks pushed aside. Ever so often, Blaise would slightly adjust the placement of her feet.

After a few minutes of rigid movement, inevitably, Ginevra jerked her elbow to the left as she turned and accidentally jabbed her partner in the chest quite roughly.

Blaise stumbled back in shock, which quickly turned into an expression of unbridled fury, "Ginevra! What the hell was that? I told you to turn _right_! What is wrong with you? Can't you follow simple directions, you daft nitwit?"

"I would follow them, if you weren't so demanding and rude! I thought I was learning dance, not an endless stream of expletives and curses!" She growled, "I don't understand why I have to even learn this! I just won't dance at the Malfoy Ball! There, problem solved!"

"Everyone dances at the Malfoy's Christmas Ball, you petulant sock puppet! What are you going to do if someone asks you to dance and all you can do is the 'troll shuffle'? If you would just listen to me, you'd be fine!" Blaise glared at her, pinching the bridge of his nose in annoyance. "Every single pureblood can dance! Just because you were a stupid blood traitor that was raised in a straw hut does not give you an excuse! You prance around Hogwarts like you own this school, but you can't even follow a simple routine without looking like a fish flopping out of water! And I'm starting to think you enjoy injuring me!"

Ginevra stared at him open-mouthed, her disbelief rendering her frozen in silence.

He rolled his eyes at her incredulous expression, and held out a hand for her to take, "Now let's start from the beginning, _again_."

Her lip trembled from the initial shock at his harsh rant, and then before he could react, she turned around and fled the room at an alarmingly fast speed.

Blaise watched her run away and cursed loudly. This was not going as he had planned.

* * *

By the time he finally ran after her, she had already passed through a maze of corridors and it was obvious she clearly did _not_ want to be found. However, he wasn't Blaise Zabini if he understood the unsaid, and so he roamed the halls trying to find any trace of the redhead he had scared off.

When he saw a pair of carefully shined Mary Janes sticking out from behind a heavy tapestry, he tried to resist the urge to smile in triumph. He could hear the sounds of quiet, muffled sniffles from the other side, and he tried not to grimace. Just wonderful, he'd made an innocent second year cry.

Not that Ginevra Weasley was innocent, in fact, she was anything but. And yet, for some ridiculous reason, he felt like the worst person in the world for being the reason behind her rather melodramatic sobs.

When he slowly pushed aside the tapestry, Ginevra immediately stilled and a cold expression hardened her features, instantly drying up her teary eyes and turning them into unyielding steel. She hastily wiped her tear-stained cheeks with the back of her hand and looked at him suspiciously, "What do you want?"

Blaise rolled his eyes, "Come out of there, you're acting like a child."

It was clearly _not_ the correct thing to say, because she promptly tried to stand up from the ledge behind the tapestry she was currently seated on so she could presumably flee again. She probably would have succeeded, had he not grabbed her wrist.

"Did you forget to insult me a bit more?" Ginevra sneered, ripping her wrist out of his grip.

He sighed, and when he realized she had no intention of coming out from behind the tapestry so they could carry out a civilized conversation, he slid into the seat beside her. "I didn't mean it, you know." He told her, staring down at his hands in an attempt to avoid her accusing gaze. "I don't care about your blood status."

She laughed bitterly, "I'm sure. How long have you been keeping that inside? And just why is this stupid dance so important to you? I already told you that I wasn't used to this whole routine, that I'd never danced so formally in my life. I didn't have some famous dance instructor from Argentina or Vienna to teach me about grace or rhythm or whatever rubbish you keep rambling about. I didn't have multiple manors for different seasons and I didn't learn proper seven course dining etiquette. I am not _you_. "

Blaise shrugged, "I didn't."

Ginevra raised an eyebrow, "You didn't what?"

He stared intently at one of the threads that had come loose on the back of the tapestry. "I didn't have some 'famous dance instructor from Vienna' either," He paused and seemed to struggle with something internally before blurting out, "My mother was the one who taught me how to dance."

"Your mother?" She repeated, trying not to look _too_ surprised. "But I heard she's never–" Ginevra paused abruptly as she realized who she was speaking with.

Blaise shrugged, "It's okay, you can say it. She's never around, she's got more husbands than she can count on both hands, she's too busy shopping in Paris and Milan–it's all quite accurate."

She cocked her head to the side, scrutinizing him closely; "You aren't that close to your mother, are you?"

He sighed, "Let's just say, I treasure the few moments I get to see her. She was never the maternal type, you know?"

Ginevra stayed quiet. She _didn't_ know. Her mother was always a constant presence in her life, bustling around the Burrow, cooking and cleaning and knitting. She had spent most of her life trying to get away from her mum's hovering, something which was especially difficult in her already crowded home. Her mother was the epitome of the coddling housewife. If she ever fell off her broom or scraped her knee, Molly Weasley was always ready with her healing spells and angry scolding about safety equipment. Ginevra was even sure Molly Weasley valued her children's lives over her own. Well, until she got herself sorted into Slytherin, that is.

Now it was different at home. Her mother would still cook for her, take her to buy her books, and give her a roof over her head. But something was missing. Instead of the adoring motherly gaze Ginevra had grown accustomed to, she got a distant smile ever so often–the kind that barely suppressed the underlying suspicion and distrust inside.

A year ago, she would've been happy to have finally succeeded in throwing off her mother's overwhelming need to be in every aspect of her life. She would've been overjoyed to finally get a break away from Molly Weasley. But looking at Blaise, Ginevra finally felt something towards her mother's abrupt dismissal of her–a feeling of loss. She bit the inside of her cheek, pushing aside her sudden discovery, gesturing for Blaise to continue speaking.

Blaise wasn't looking at her, however. He was staring down at his perfectly shined shoes, as if they were the most interesting things in the world. When he finally spoke, his voice was light, but it had a certain forced quality.

"I was rather resentful when I was younger. My mother used to leave me with the houselves, or drop me at Draco's home while she went on some romantic vacation with her new beau. I cannot tell you how many times I just sat alone in the empty sitting room, just waiting for her to floo back home."

"Although, when she came back," Blaise felt his lips twitch into a small smile, "She brought back so many presents and gifts. I suppose it was her way of saying she didn't forget about me. But I didn't need her to buy me the newest broom model or some exotic candy, I just wanted her to stay home a bit longer instead of flying off to some new opera in Italy again."

"When did she teach you how to dance?" Ginevra asked curiously.

Blaise laughed, "Funny story. It happened when I was around seven years of age. She had just come back from some charity ball in Germany and she was utterly furious. She threw her purse across the room, ripped her shoes off and just tossed them into the trash. When I asked her what was wrong, she admitted she had just spent the night dancing with a man who always stepped on her feet. He'd ruined her shoes, and apparently ripped her dress by accidentally stepping on its train. And to my mother–a woman who values her wardrobe more than her own parents–this was an absolute disaster. She decided right then that her only child would not just _know_ how to properly dance, but he would be bloody great at it too. And thus began our weekly dance lessons."

Ginevra raised an eyebrow, "You started dancing at age seven? Merlin, I could barely walk in a straight line at that age."

He grinned, "And I was quite excellent at it too. Draco thought it was ridiculous, he claimed 'boys don't dance' or something equally childish. But those few hours where my mother scolding me for doing the wrong footwork or for stepping on her toes again were honestly the only thing I looked forward to every week. Even when she was reprimanding me to stop tripping, I still preferred it over her _not_ being there."

"Well, if it means anything, I think your mother did an excellent job teaching you," Ginevra spoke shyly, "As much as I hate to admit it, you're rather decent at this formal dancing thing."

She frowned slightly, "Did your mother also hurl a never-ending amount of unnecessary insults at you while you learned how to dance, or was that just the treatment I received from you?"

He snorted, "Are you kidding me? She was far worse. If I can recall correctly, she cursed at me in exactly fourteen different languages, and she did not withhold on the creativity behind those insults." He shrugged, "Its how we Zabinis teach. Quite effective, don't you think?"

It was clearly a rhetorical question, because even before she had opened her mouth to respond, Blaise had turned to face her with a raised eyebrow. "Now, are you going to tell me why you are so against learning this dance?"

She blanched.

"And before you can make up an excuse, just know I won't believe a single word of it." Blaise added.

She watched his expectant expression for a second and suddenly she accused, "You only told me about your mother because you wanted me to tell you why I don't want to learn this stupid dance!"

"So there is a specific reason!" Blaise exclaimed triumphantly. "And I'm a Slytherin. By revealing something about myself, you feel more obligated to share something in return. Don't act so surprised."

"That is the most underhanded and manipulative thing I have heard all term." She huffed, folding her arms across her chest in annoyance.

"But is it working?"

Ginevra bit her lip and grumbled, "Possibly." She made a show out of stretching out her long limbs and tossing back her fiery hair. "It's not that I don't want to learn. I just believe it would not make a difference if I memorized every single etiquette rule, or wore the finest robes, or never missed a dance step," She paused, and looked away. "They'd still see me as some lower class blood traitor. Just another _Weasley_."

Blaise kept quiet as she continued to ramble, and he noticed as her fingers curled tighter into a fist with every word.

" –And you know they'd just laugh at me. You can wrap a gift in pretty packaging, but it doesn't change the gift. All I have to do is _step_ inside Malfoy's not-so-humble abode and everyone will know who I am, and where I come from. Lucius Malfoy will probably throw me out for even daring to enter the estate!"

Blaise rolled his eyes, "If Hermione, a muggleborn, can attend the Malfoy Christmas Ball and blend in, I'm sure you will have no problem."

Ginevra's anxious ranting cut off immediately, and she snapped her gaze back to Blaise. "Hermione was invited? How did she–"

He winced, "Well, technically, she wasn't invited. But she played the part well…that is, until Draco trapped her on the dance floor and insulted her till she fled in tears. Horrible manners. Hadrian and Daphne made him apologize, though."

Her jaw dropped and a horrified expression rapidly came over her sharp features.

Blaise quickly hurried to explain, "Don't worry, when I saw her wandering the gardens later, I floo-ed us to our England home so she wouldn't have to go back to muggle London, but she still wouldn't be alone," He hesitated for a second before adding, "And if something similar were to happen to you, I'd do the same…even though we aren't exactly best mates."

Ginevra sighed, "That's oddly sweet coming from someone who was calling me a sock puppet an hour ago, but I don't think this is a good idea, Zabini. I don't even have a nice enough dress, I can't dance, and even _I_ can't pretend to be completely poised in a room where everyone probably hates me."

He leaned his head back until it gently rested on the cold stone wall behind him. "This is about more than just you, Ginevra. Hadrian wants something from you, and I'd advise you against angering him. This is an opportunity, not to get humiliated like you think, but to prove everyone wrong. It's a chance to prove that Ginevra Weasley can be the perfect pureblood, just like Astoria or even Destiny. And not to mention, there will be a _lot_ of important ministry officials there, like the Head of the MLE or even the Minister."

Ginevra cocked her head to the side thoughtfully, "I bet Percy will have a cow when he realizes I've met the Minister before him."

"That's the spirit!" Blaise smirked, suddenly leaping up from the small ledge and holding out a hand for her, "Let's get you out from behind this stuffy old tapestry and practice the wonderful art of dance."

She wiped the dust off her hands on her school skirt, and placed her hand in his. Suddenly, she frowned, "But if you tell anyone anything I just said, rest assured, I _will_ hex you."

"Duly noted. Now come on, you have work to do."

When he explained the correct techniques and sequence of turns to her once they were back in their original abandoned classroom, she was determined to get it correct this time.

Blaise hummed in approval when she corrected her steps and narrowly avoided stepping on his foot again during their second try. His hand was wrapped around her waist, and her fingers rested lightly on his soft jumper.

He smiled, all of a sudden. "How about this, if you can learn this dance–which is so simple even an ape in heels could do it–I'll ask my mother to pick you up an appropriate dress that doesn't clash with that hideous red hair of yours, hm?"

She frowned, and a slight red flush crept up her neck, "Zabini, you know I can't–you know I can't afford that."

He rolled his eyes, "It's a gift, just relax."

"Knowing you, it will probably be a dress that costs more than my entire life savings. I can't accept that!"

Blaise shrugged, "I'm not sure why you think arguing against me is effective."

"Because–"

He cut her off by tossing his head back in a dramatic groan, "Here I am, spending my precious time teaching you how to properly dance so you don't trip and dislocate a hip during the traditional wizard's waltz, and you have the audacity to reject my gift? Have some manners!"

Ginevra rolled her eyes, "You're infuriating."

Blaise smiled cheekily, "And _you_ would look very nice in powder blue."

 **Great Hall [November 11** **th** **]**

"Did you hear? Everyone's talking about it!"

Hadrian merely raised an eyebrow at his best friend, but made a sound of polite interest.

The nearly _giddy_ blond was more than happy to take the lackluster reaction he had received as a sign of encouragement. He ungracefully plopped himself into a seat between Daphne and Hadrian, ignoring her annoyed shriek as in his excitement, he managed to accidentally knock over her glass of pumpkin juice.

Daphne glared at him as she threw her napkin on the table in an attempt to stop the orange liquid from dripping into her lap. She pushed back her hair and bit the inside of her cheek in an attempt to suppress her irritation, "And what could possibly be of such great importance that you decided to forgo tableside manners and nearly ruin my skirt?"

He waved his hand dismissively, "I'll buy you a new one. But you will not believe what I just saw with my own eyes!"

Neville glanced up from the Herbology book he was absorbed in, "Could it possibly be that you have finally seen your uncanny resemblance to an old gossipy woman?"

Draco scowled, "No," He paused for dramatic effect, ignoring the snickers around him, "Potter fell off his broom during the quidditch match! Apparently there were dementors circulating Hogwarts, and they latched onto him while he was searching for he snitch! He would've died if it weren't for our gracious bumbling Headmaster who shot some bright spell at him and forced the dementors away."

Daphne pursed her lips into a thin line, "I didn't know there was a spell for that," she frowned, "Why are there dementors around Hogwarts in the first place?"

"They're looking for Sirius Black," Hadrian explained, "He escaped from Azkaban and the entire Auror force has been running in circles trying to find him. They think he might be near Hogwarts, since this was a place he spent most of his childhood in."

"Do you think he could be in Hogwarts?" Neville asked carefully, "I've heard stories about him, and I highly doubt a couple of dementors could stop him from sneaking into the castle."

Hadrian smirked to himself, "Probably not."

"What was that?" Draco questioned, straining to hear his friend's mumbling.

Hadrian rose from his seat and shoved his potions book back into his bag. He grinned, "I said I have an owl to send. I'll see you all in Defense."

* * *

 _Dear Lord Black,_

 _I have been informed that there are dementors surrounding Hogwarts from all directions, and I believe it is best to be prepared. Therefore, I wish to learn the Patronus charm, and I would like for you to teach me. Let me know if you would consider accepting my proposal._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Hadrian Riddle_

Hadrian quickly attached the letter to Destiny's owl, Inferno, who was peering at him haughtily. The pure white creature nipped at his hand, and he cursed under his breath as it flew away.

He had barely packed up his belongings and adjusted the buttons on jumper before Inferno flew back through the window and dropped a letter at his feet. He pursed his lips as he opened the letter; _Sirius must've been closer to the school than he'd initially thought._

 _Dear kiddo,_

 _Don't call me Lord Black; that's my father, and he's buried in a shallow grave. And do you always write all your letters so formally, like you're writing to the bloody Minister? As for your "proposal", I'll try to teach you–but only because I'm bored and living as a fugitive is not as exciting as you'd think._

 _-Sirius_

Hadrian smiled to himself as he read through Sirius's letter. He didn't have much time to dwell on the response, however, as he heard the sound of footsteps steadily approaching outside the Owlerly. He hurriedly pulled out his wand and stared at the words on the wrinkled parchment for a few seconds before whispering, "Incendio."

 **Hogwarts Library [November 26** **th** **]**

"You know, I'm finally convinced Snape is a sadistic bastard," Neville commented, leaning back in his chair and kicking his feet up on the desk, "Who else would give an exam only a week before we're due to leave for the holidays?"

" _Professor_ Snape." Hermione corrected him absentmindedly. She pushed his feet off of her desk in an effort to gain more workspace so she could re-write her notes without cluttering the table.

Destiny peered at him over the pages of her own book detailing the benefits of Aconite in pepper-up potions, "Darling, you're not going to get above a P if you don't study for this."

"I heard he gives this exam every year to his third-year classes–right before the holidays–and the majority of them get Trolls," Draco revealed.

"Where do you keep seeing and hearing all this information?" Blaise muttered under his breath, sullenly flipping a page.

"I told you, he's the equivalent of some old grandmother in Diagon Alley gossiping to her wrinkly friends," Neville laughed.

"Can you all kindly _shut up_?" Hermione nearly shrieked, snapping around to face the group of snickering teenagers with a hostile glare, "I can't stand the _giggling,_ and the _laughing_ , and the stupid _smirking_! And you two!" She pointed an accusing finger at Hadrian and Daphne, "You've been searching for a book for the past twenty minutes! What the bloody hell is taking so long?"

Daphne shrugged sheepishly, "We got distracted looking at the pretty snow outside when we were trying to find a book in the Care of Magical Creatures section."

The curly haired witch rolled her eyes, "That story might have been believable, had either of you actually elected to take Care of Magical Creatures."

She paused, and ignored the look of mild surprise on her friends' faces at her angry ranting. She took a deep, calming breath, and raised a stern eyebrow, "Now, if you lot are _not_ going to study, can you _please_ bugger off and go to bed without disturbing _my_ peace?"

There was a long moment of stunned silence, in which everyone just stared at the frazzled state of their muggleborn friend. Eventually, Blaise snapped out of his shock and hurriedly began to pack up his things as fast as he could. He would never turn down a chance to leave his studying behind.

Neville, Hadrian, and Daphne quickly followed suit, shoving their belongings into their bags and trying their best to avoid the irritated glare Hermione was bestowing upon all of them.

"Malfoy, Destiny? Aren't you coming?" Neville asked curiously, swinging his bag around his shoulder.

Draco shook his head, "My father keeps warning me about my Potions grade, so I think I'll stay here and study for a bit longer."

"And I just don't want to go back to my dorm," Destiny explained, "Patil and Brown don't go to bed until after a very thorough discussion of every article in Witch Weekly–and I don't think I can stand another night of trying to block out their hysterical screeching."

Everyone grimaced in sympathy.

Hadrian picked up Daphne's bag before she could even reach for it. He suddenly frowned and turned to look over at the group still studying at the table. "It's rather late. Shouldn't you all just head back now? The castle can get a bit daunting at nighttime."

"That's why I'm here," Draco plastered a cocky smirk onto his sharp features, "I'll make sure your sister–"

"And Hermione!" Destiny piped in.

Draco felt a sneer play at his lips, but he begrudgingly nodded, "I'll make sure they get back to their common rooms safely. Besides, curfew isn't for another hour, so we'll be fine. "

Hadrian still looked skeptically between the three, but in the end his tiredness won over and he reluctantly sighed, "Fine. But neither of them should have a single scratch tomorrow, understand Draco?"

"Of course, my lord." Draco snickered.

Hadrian glared at him as he held the door open for his two friends, and then with a quick wave in lieu of a goodbye, he was gone.

Hermione watched them slowly file out of the library, and she shook her head in disappointment. Through her peripheral vision, she kept an eye on Malfoy to make sure he didn't try anything funny. She was slightly surprised when he simply scowled at her for a second before turning his attention back to the pile of notes in front of him.

They studied in a comfortable silence for a while, and the only sound to be heard was the flipping of pages and the scratching of their quills against parchment. Hermione was so engrossed in learning about the theory behind their latest potion that she didn't even notice Madame Pince approaching their little group.

She cleared her throat, "While I do appreciate your diligent studying habits, library hours are now over and curfew begins in fifteen minutes. I'm afraid you'll have to depart to your respective dormitories until tomorrow morning. Good Night."

Hermione nodded in thanks, and slowly began to pack up her various study materials in a neat fashion. Every quill had its own case and every notebook had its own place in her satchel. By the time she was almost finished, she turned to see Destiny and Malfoy already waiting for her.

"Can you take any longer, Granger?" Malfoy sneered, looking at her as though she was nothing but a speck of dirt on his shoe.

"I could," She mused, "But you seem to be in a bit of a hurry, Malfoy, so I'll try my best to work faster."

And with that, she deliberately began to reach for her last textbook in slow motion.

"Hermione," Destiny began impatiently, "Not that I am against this immature display, but I don't fancy being caught by Filch, so can you please shove that book in your bag so we can go?"

Hermione shrugged her bag over her shoulder and grinned, gesturing them to lead the way. She trudged behind Destiny and Draco as they pushed through the library doors and stepped into the drafty corridors. Hermione instantly shivered at the loss of warmth from the library.

They walked in the general direction of the dormitories for a few minutes before Destiny stopped abruptly.

"Filch usually passes by Gryffindor tower when he begins his patrolling, so I'm jut going to run through the east corridor so I can sneak in before he sees me," She decided, turning in the opposite direction. "Draco, make sure Hermione gets back in one piece!"

Draco frowned, but before he could even protest, the blonde was already running off towards her dormitory. "Hadrian is going to kill me if she gets so much as a detention for being caught," Draco muttered.

"Well, I'm going to head off too," Hermione announced uncomfortably, "Ravenclaw tower is probably far from the dungeons, so I don't want to–"

Draco grabbed the back of her robes and pulled her back just as she was trying to run off like Destiny had done. He shook his head, "No way, mudblood. Hadrian is already going to be pissed I let his precious sister walk off alone, and no way am I going to be on the receiving end of his horrible temper for you too."

Hermione crossed her arms in challenge, "But you don't even know where Ravenclaw tower is."

"But _you_ do, so what are you waiting for? Purer blood? Hurry up and lead the way."

She let out a groan of frustration and began to march near the courtyard doors, wrapping her arms around her freezing shoulders. From the sound of footsteps behind her, she suspected he was not far behind.

When she reached the courtyard, she sighed heavily and threw the doors open, immediately getting hit in the face by a whip of freezing air. Her teeth chattered as she took in the thick flurries of snow in the air and the already thick layer of snow on the ground.

"Why the bloody hell are you leading us outside, mudblood? Are you daft?"

She didn't respond to his insult, instead she gripped the edges of her cloak closer to her shivering frame and trudged forward.

"Bloody Riddle is probably snuggling with Greengrass near the warm fireplace while I'm hiking through Antarctica with a frizzy-haired mudblood," Draco muttered.

Hermione rolled her eyes at his whinging.

"Where are we going, you stupid twit?"

Suddenly, she felt a cold grip tug at her wrist, and she gasped as she was yanked back to face an irate Draco Malfoy.

"Answer me, mudblood!"

"Has it ever occurred to you," Hermione began coolly, eyeing him with disdain, "that I don't care for such horrid slurs? That I don't want to respond to some whiny bigot that keeps insulting my blood–something which I cannot change?"

"Exactly, you can't change your filthy blood. You're not even worthy to walk in this castle! Your kind should never have been allowed to learn something as magnificent as magic. All mudbloods are dirty blooded little creatures that should've stayed back in their precious muggle homes and never stepped foot into this world!" Draco hissed. His voice had a certain venom to it, a certain anger that had never been so apparent before.

Hermione's eyes narrowed and her expression contorted into one of pure rage. With an inhumane, garbled noise of pure fury, she pushed him with all her strength and watched him collapse into the thick layer of snow.

He looked stunned for a moment, with the icy snow pressing into his back and the cold air biting at his face. His lips twisted downwards and he was itching to whip out his wand and hex her once and for all when–

"Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!" She screeched, "I am tired of trying to prove to everyone that my blood doesn't make me incompetent. I am sick of studying so hard, being top of my class, and _still_ considered to be the equivalent to a sewer rat. I hear what everyone says, Malfoy. That I'm smart… _for a mudblood_. That I'm decent looking… _for a mudblood_. I'm just as much of a witch as anyone else! But still, _every day_ people seem awed that a mudblood like myself can even eat a slice of toast properly. I am _not_ an animal!"

"I was a freak in the muggle world and I'm still a freak in this one. Everywhere I go, why am I always considered to be some inferior little chit compared to the likes of you? I work twice as hard, I actually _care_ about my future, and I want to do something good in this world –but I'm still treated like a bloody mutt that's learned new tricks. Nothing I can every do will be good enough!"

Her eyes were slightly crazed as she demanded, "What is it? What is it about my blood that makes you see me as a disgusting cockroach and _not_ an actual human being?"

He glared at her, trying to shift himself into a dignified position as best he could for someone that was just knocked over by a girl. He leaned back on his elbows and shot her the dirtiest look he could procure, "You're related to muggles," He said simply, "They tried to burn my world, Granger. Their dirty blood nearly destroyed the entire population. Mudbloods like you are vile little creatures that don't even deserve to know about our world. You are filthy, just like your blood."

Her hands were clenched into fists at her side, and she was quivering–from the rage or the cold, he wasn't quite sure. She withdrew her wand, and he began to feel apprehensive at the mere sight of it. To his surprise, she didn't turn the wand on him and shoot the first hex she could think of.

Instead, she pushed her sleeve up slowly, revealing a splattering of half-healed bruises crawling up her arm.

Draco frowned, feeling his stomach lurch at the sight, "Granger, what the bloody hell happened to your arm?"

She didn't respond to him. Her narrowed eyes were focused on the palm of her hand as she dragged her wand across the flesh.

Hermione winced, and then kneeled down to be at the blond's eye level. She slid her wand back into her robes and lifted her hand so he could see the jagged cut she had slashed into her hand with a silent cutting spell. Dark, burgundy blood was pooling around the opening, and Draco leaned back slightly from the sight of violent red marring her pale white skin.

Her face was close to his–so close that he could feel her warm breath softly brushing across his face as she spoke–"Does this look like mud to you?"

When he didn't answer, her expression became more furious, "Does it look any different from your own blood? It's still red, isn't it?"

He still hadn't made a sound, and she leaned in closer, using her bleeding hand to grab his. She had a delirious, almost mad look in her owlish eyes. "Do you feel that?" She paused, "It's still warm. Still full of _life,_ still thrumming with energy and magic. Just like yours."

A particularly cold gust of wind hit them both, and Hermione seemed to snap out of the nearly insane, anger-induced trance she was in. She stood up from her crouched position and dusted the snow off her bare hands. If she felt any pain, she didn't show it. Her face was eerily calm as she adjusted her robes and began to walk towards the other side of the courtyard, head held high.

She had just opened the other set of doors-which would lead to another stairwell near Ravenclaw tower–when she stopped and looked down at her still bleeding palm. Her other hand gripped the open door and she whispered, "Don't you see? When it truly comes down to blood, we're all the same underneath."

The wind carried her soft words across the courtyard, and he heard them clearly almost fifty feet away. After she had disappeared through the doors, Draco glanced down at the ghastly red that had tainted his hand.

He closed his eyes tightly. But even then, he could still see the few drops of blood that had stained the pure white snow around him quite clearly, as though the image was burned permanently into his mind.


	7. Memories

**A/N: Guys, I've had a rough four months. And when I say rough, I mean I** _ **just**_ **got out of the hospital last week. This has quite actually been one of the worst years of my entire life, and that's including the year I thought Crocs were fashionable. I don't think I did much of anything except sleep and take meds for a third of a year, let alone write. This chapter is LOOOONG overdue and I'm so sorry but I wasn't even in the mood to eat or see people, let alone write. I'm doing much better now, and hopefully I will stay healthy and not a depressed potato so updates will be a lot more regular now. A lot of you have probably abandoned this story and I don't blame you, what kind of author takes like 4 months to update? Anyways, I don't know how I can apologize more…. except by giving you a new chapter and another one on its way in the next few days (fingers crossed)! I hope you enjoy the chapter, and thanks for sticking with me despite my plethora of crazy issues! You guys have no idea how much reading your reviews made me smile whilst I was a living zombie. Thank you so much!**

 **P.S: You guys should check out the oneshot I wrote called, The Link (its a dramione fluff/humor piece with some other pairings)**

 **Hogwarts Express [December 10** **th** **]**

"Aren't you coming, Hadrian?" Draco Malfoy called out, sticking his head through the open doorway.

Hadrian kept his eyes on Hermione Granger, watching as she slowly packed up her books and placed them into her satchel with an almost absurd amount of care. She reached down to tie her muggle trainers, her curly hair falling over the side of her face in an attempt to purposefully avoid his gaze.

He waved his hand dismissively, "I'll be there soon. Leave us, Draco."

Draco eyed him wearily in return, shooting a quick glance at the girl he had slowly become accustomed to over the years–but not one he particularly enjoyed the company of, for that matter. Every time he looked at her, he couldn't help his gaze dropping downwards to the faint white scar that was healing slowly across her palm.

" _What happened to your hand, Hermione?" Daphne had gasped when she had first seen the deep red gash in Granger's hand during lunchtime._

 _Draco had watched her reaction then, as well. Watched how her shoulders had stiffened unnoticeably and how her eyebrows scrunched into the slightest of frowns. He had panicked, thinking she would reveal their conversation the night before. But Granger did no such thing. He stared at her in slight awe as she forced her features into a sheepish expression, as she shook her head in what appeared to be embarrassment. She was a born actress, it seemed._

" _I was cutting some flobberworms in Potions this morning and my knife slipped." She explained without hesitation, and without a glance at him._

 _It seemed so natural, so simple, and so innocent coming from her lips that nobody questioned it. Neville even asked her about Snape's reaction and she laughed good-naturedly, spinning some tale about losing a few house points and enduring Snape's scathing remarks._

 _Not once did she look in his direction, or utter his name, or even acknowledge his presence. And for reasons he couldn't quite pinpoint, that irked him so._

"Draco?"

He snapped out of his thoughts, looking at Hadrian with slight confusion. Riddle gestured towards Hermione, and his lips twitched in amusement, "You were staring."

His cheeks colored upon realizing he was so lost in his thoughts he had been staring at the insufferable know-it-all the entire time. She ducked behind that bushy hair-curtain of hers, but not before Draco caught a glimpse of her face–which had turned slightly pink too, probably as a result of his blatant staring.

He shook his head, disoriented. "Right…. I suppose I'll just go wait outside," He nodded, as if to confirm his actions and began to back out of the room slowly and close the door behind him. He glanced over his shoulder and before he could stop himself, he blurted out "See you after the holidays, Granger."

Hadrian raised an eyebrow at Draco's abrupt departure, "Well that was a bit odd, don't you think?"

Hermione pursed her lips, "Quite."

Hadrian leaned his trunk against the wall and sat down, watching Hermione fuss around the cabin for a bit. He noticed her jerky movements had a lingering reluctance to them, as if she didn't even _want_ to collect all her belongings.

"Are you going to tell me what is in that pretty little head of yours?" He finally asked, crossing his arms against his chest. He smiled teasingly, "Or do I have to pry it out of you myself?"

She glanced over at him, "I don't particularly want to talk about this, Hadrian. You wouldn't understand."

He leveled his gaze, "Tell me anyways."

Hermione hesitated. He was smiling at her with what she had secretly dubbed as "The Prince Charming" smile. It was something in the way his lips curved up to reveal just a hint of pearly white teeth, something in the way such a simple motion could convey both his understanding and sincerity. It was the kind of smile that people just ached to see again. It was the kind of smile that could probably coax even the darkest secrets out of her.

And the thought terrified her.

However, it didn't look like he would let her leave without an explanation to her jittery behavior, and so she sighed and plopped herself into the seat beside him. She leaned her head back against the wood paneling and stared at the ceiling tiredly.

"I don't want to go back home." She finally admitted, fidgeting with her hands. "I don't think I can act like nothing is wrong anymore. He's…He's out of control, Hadrian."

"This is about of your father, right?" Hadrian questioned, "I can understand why you hate him."

Hermione wrapped her arms around her midsection and stood up, "I don't think I can hate him."

"I'm not sure I follow." He furrowed his brows, "How can you _not_ hate him after all he has done to you?"

She huffed, "I told you that you wouldn't understand."

"Then explain it to me," Hadrian prodded her gently.

Her hands wound themselves into her hair, and she pushed it out of her eyes with an angry swipe, "I sound absolutely mad, don't I? I can't even count the slights he has made against me, the amount of times he's hurt me and yet–" Her voice broke and she collapsed into her seat again. "It's hard to hate him."

Hadrian kept quiet, silently encouraging her to continue.

"I know he's a despicable person. I know he's hurting me because he knows he can. I know he could hurt me _more_ if he were given the chance," She paused, "But he gave me an Ancient Runes textbook for my birthday this year."

"What?" Hadrian cocked his head to the side in visible confusion, "Hermione, just because he gave you a present does not negate the fact that he's a complete bastard."

"You think I don't know that?" She hissed at him, burying her face into her hands. "It's just…. he isn't a 'complete bastard', as you put it, all the time. Sometimes he's nice to me."

"Hermione…" He began, but she wasn't listening to him.

"Sometimes we eat ice-cream together on the couch and watch the news. Sometimes he tells me about his day while he plays the piano. Sometimes he smuggles chocolates for me because he knows Mum won't let me have any. In those moments I question…" She closed her eyes, "I question whether I'm hallucinating–whether _I'm_ crazy to think he's cruel and sadistic."

"He raised me, you know?" Hermione muttered. "He gave me food and a home and some of my best memories. He can be good and he can be horrible. He switches back and forth so constantly, I don't know what to expect. I am terrified of him sometimes, Hadrian. But I can't just–I can't just leave him."

"He could have thrown me out on the streets, but he _didn't_. He could've starved me for months, but _he didn't_. He could have done much worse to me, but he _didn't_ _because he loves me_. In his own twisted way, I think he still loves me," She stared at the ground and whispered, "I just wish he didn't make it so hard to love him back."

Hadrian felt his stomach churn at her words. He wanted to berate her, shake her by the shoulders and demand how she could be so blind, so stupid. Just because she was provided with food, water, and shelter did not mean her father was anything short of abusive. Even plants got more care than she did! How could she not see her family, her own blood, was psychologically destroying her?

Daphne had told him of the terrified state Hermione had been in when she had dropped into her bedroom last Christmas. She told him about the panicked look on Granger's face and the way she looked utterly _broken_.

Family wasn't supposed to hurt you.

Granted, his own family had already abandoned him, but luckily, Lord Voldemort was there to protect him.

 _That's what he was doing, wasn't it? Protecting him?_

At least, that's what Hadrian liked to think. Every single time the Dark Lord hurled an unknown curse at him, any time he crucioed him until he hit the floor–that was just preparing him for the future.

Out of everyone else, he had chosen _him_ , meek little _Harry Potter,_ to stand at his side.

Hermione's father hurt her because he simply _could_. But _his_ father hurt him because, well, it was for his own good, wasn't it?

Besides, his father wasn't a vicious tyrant all of the time. Sometimes the Dark Lord would help him learn how to do a brand new curse, or let him sit in on the important Death Eater meetings in the heavily warded rooms. That certainly invalidated the fact that his father wanted to keep him miserable.

Hermione was under the delusion that her father still loved her. But Hadrian could never even fool himself into thinking someone like Lord Voldemort could _love_ him.

But then if not love, then why did he keep him around? There wasn't much Hadrian could offer the Dark Lord that he did not already have. Why did he keep him around?

After almost eight years and wasting so many resources, it seemed unlikely his father would want to kill him. However, it also seemed unlikely Voldemort would ever pass on the proverbial crown to him–not even in the case of his death. He was quite sure his father had dozens of backup plans in case he ever realized his time was running out.

Unless, of course, something took him by surprise.

Hadrian clenched his jaw, unnerved by the sudden trickle of doubt that floated into his mind. His father was an absolute madman, but he would bring honor back to the wizarding world.

And while Lord Voldemort was a lover of schadenfreude, Hadrian doubted the joy derived from torturing someone would outweigh his father's pursuit of creating a better world.

At least that's what he claimed he was after.

Sometimes Hadrian thought his father just wanted to create chaos–progress be damned. Sometimes when he looked into those red eyes, he only saw a fragmented soul and a thirst for destruction. Somewhere in time, the Dark Lord might have begun his journey with the intent to rebuild the Wizarding World, but he had strayed from his path, as of late. He seemed more focused on generating fear in the masses, rather than rebuilding.

And while he was truly loyal to his father, there was only so much blind faith he could have. There had to be a breaking point. The question was when. When was it too far? When would he have enough?

"Hadrian?"

He snapped his gaze back up to Hermione, who had been staring at him with concern. "Are you alright?" She asked, wringing her hands nervously.

He swallowed forcefully. With a shaking hand, he reached into his trunk and pulled out a worn-out book. It had been yellowed with age and the leather binding had become frail. The title of the book was unmistakable, despite its ancient condition.

"Magick Most Evile?" She backed away, almost as if the mere sight of the book had burned her. "Hadrian, that book is illegal."

He shrugged, "It was supposed to be your Christmas present. But I think you might need it before then."

"Why do you keep giving me these books?" She demanded hotly, hands on her hips in the very pose of indignation. "The Dark Arts…It's not for me. I know you said 'Magic is magic' but I don't think I can ever use these spells, however fascinating they may be. And I don't even want to think about where you got this book from–"

"Hermione," He cut off what was sure to be a long tirade, "I want you to have it. Read it. Learn it. I don't want you to _use_ anything in this book unless it's absolutely necessary," He stepped closer to her, pushing the book into her hands, "This is for your own protection. If–" He paused, "If your f –If _anybody_ tried to lay a finger on you, I want to know you'll be able to protect yourself."

He ignored the paleness of her face at his implication and gritted out, "The world isn't as safe as you'd like to think, Hermione. People don't just stick to juvenile bat-bogey hexes and jinxes to hurt others. And if you aren't willing to fight back just as fiercely, then you'll fall."

There was a moment of silence where Hermione bit her lip and glanced at the book in her hands. Her eyebrows knitted together and her nose scrunched as though she were in deep thought.

Then slowly, without another word, Hermione Granger sealed her fate by sliding one of the darkest books to ever be written in the Wizarding World into her satchel.

Hadrian suppressed a smile. He held out a hand for her and leaned his head in the direction of the door, "We should go. The train's about to leave and I don't particularly fancy going back to Hogwarts for the holidays."

 **Malfoy Manor [December 15** **th** **]**

Lucius Malfoy glanced at the ridiculous. "To-do" list the Dark Lord had given him with a sneer. He wasn't a toddler; he had the ability to balance a few simple tasks. He rolled his eyes as he unrolled the parchment with an exaggerated flick of his wrist.

1\. Meeting with Yaxley about Yule time

2\. Wake up Hadrian

3\. Escort aforementioned brat to daily lessons

4\. Accompany Bellatrix to educate the newest recruits on code of conduct.

5\. Hold meeting with inner circle about Yule

6\. Give Hadrian the talk before Yule

7\. Consult with Sirius Black about his duties

8\. Discuss plans with Rabastan to increase the dungeon space in the Manor

Lucius froze, his eyes straying to the sixth item on the list. He slowly peeled his incredulous gaze off the parchment and over to the raven-haired miniature dark lord-in-training that was lazily ordering around Peter Pettigrew like a house elf.

Absolutely not.

He was not–He could not–There was a line, for Merlin's sake! Lucius knew the Dark Lord often did not have time for such personal matters, but this was too far! He was convinced this was a joke. The Dark Lord couldn't possibly mean for _him_ to explain to Hadrian the how-to's of sexual intercourse.

This was absolutely ludicrous. He stood up from his seat, fully intent on writing an urgent missive to the Dark Lord, letting him know there would be no way he would be lecturing Hadrian upon _that_ when he suddenly recalled the last time he had failed to follow one of his Lord's orders.

He winced as he was reminded of that painful hour he spent under some foreign curse that made him feel as though he were both suffocating _and_ about to explode.

Glancing at the list again, he realized he had little to no choice in the matter. He looked over once again at Hadrian Riddle, who had now moved to idly sending wordless hexes at the lowly Death Eater. He pressed his fingertips to his temples in frustration.

"Hadrian," Lucius barked, snapping the teenager out of his amused state, "Your father has asked me to discuss… something… with you. Stop cursing Pettigrew and follow me."

He turned swiftly on his heel, causing his cloak to flare out in a dramatic fashion. Lucius didn't bother checking if Hadrian was even following him; he wasn't particularly concerned if the child decided to disobey this particular order. It would certainly be less of a hassle for him.

Unfortunately, Hadrian Riddle seemed to be in an obedient mood and wordlessly followed him into one of the smaller sitting rooms in the manor without protest. He threw himself onto a seat and crossed his legs over the pristine white arm of the couch. He cocked an eyebrow at Lucius Malfoy's uncomfortable posture.

"Well?" Hadrian drawled, gesturing to the multiple seating options across the room, "Aren't you going to sit down?"

"No," The Malfoy patriarch said stiffly, shoving the "To-Do" list from hell back into his robes. "I am perfectly fine standing here. This is an appropriate distance."

Hadrian frowned in confusion, but gestured for the elder Malfoy to continue.

"Your father has instructed me to discuss–" Lucius paused, his cheeks coloring bit as he pondered how he could possibly do this with the least awkwardness. Perhaps if Draco were here it would be less difficult. It would also accomplish two things at once, and Lucius was certainly a lover of efficiency.

With that in mind, he summoned a houself and immediately ordered the scraggly looking thing to fetch his son. Hadrian stared at him with an inquisitive gaze, clearly even more confused than before. He drummed his fingers on the couch, as he waited for Lucius to get on with it.

When Draco finally arrived, he walked in with a scowl and his hair stuck up in little tufts around his head. Judging from the peeved expression he wore, it seemed the house elf had quite literally dragged his son out of bed.

"Father," Draco addressed curtly, closing the doors behind him. "Hadrian," He nodded in the boy's direction, not at all surprised to see his best friend at such an early hour. "Why am I here?" He finally demanded.

"Sit down boys," Lucius began, settling himself into an uncomfortable high-backed chair by the wall. "I'm about to teach you about the world of sexual intercourse."

Draco froze, his eyes straying towards the doors as if he were considering his chances of simply escaping the room before his father could speak any further. When he realized the doors were too far away, he simply sunk deeper into his chair, willing himself to turn invisible.

"I'm sorry, what does 'sexual intercourse' mean?" Hadrian asked too innocently, a sparkle of mischief in his eyes, "And how do I participate?"

Draco smirked, catching on to Hadrian's plan. He sat up straighter in his seat, raising his hand. "Do I have to file a request with the Ministry to engage in sexual relations?"

Lucius tried to stifle the glare that threatened to appear on his face. Clearly, they were not going to make this any easier on him.

 **Malfoy Manor [December 25** **th** **]**

His father was out of the country for the holidays, Hadrian was told. As usual, the Dark Lord didn't care to leave his son any word of this sudden trip, nor did he tell Hadrian why he had left.

However, his father's absence did _not_ mean he was to skive on his duties and trainings, Lucius Malfoy had warned him. Hadrian had an inkling of suspicion that the elder Malfoy was responsible for making sure he didn't waste his holidays simply lazing around. It had become quite obvious when Lucius, the patriarch of the esteemed House of Malfoy, had yanked the covers off of him just this morning when he overslept for nearly an hour.

His holiday thus far had consisted of experiencing Professor Snape's borderline abusive Occlumency lessons, Lucius Malfoy's discussions on strategic moves for the Death Eaters–and apparently sexual education had been added to the curriculum, learning dark curses from Bellatrix, and trying to dodge the bizarre Malfoy house-elf that had strangely become obsessed with serving him–Dolly, or something.

The Malfoy Christmas ball was the only break he'd had this entire week, and he was planning on enjoying every second of it. Narcissa had already positioned him and Draco at their usual position by the door, and had given them the duty of greeting the guests for yet another year.

Narcissa had outdone herself this year, and the main ballroom at Malfoy Manor looked even more luxurious than it had ever been before. The main attraction was the massive fountain in the middle of the ballroom, and from the way Lucius had shot a warning glance at him and Draco, he discovered quickly enough that instead of water, the fountain flowed with champagne.

Hadrian turned his gaze to Draco, who was currently leaning against his open door, looking as bored as he could without looking _too_ improper. They had already greeted a large number of guests, and the charming smile he had plastered onto his face was starting to hurt his cheeks.

Neville had already arrived at the ball around an hour ago, once again unaccompanied by his ornery grandmother. He had spoken but a few words to them before Destiny arrived and whisked him away, demanding he ask her to dance.

Hadrian spotted Destiny almost immediately due to her almost white-blond hair, and to his surprise she was still dancing with Neville. His eyes narrowed as he saw them laughing together and the way Neville had ducked his head down slightly to be closer to Destiny. Hadrian frowned, there was certainly something going on _there_.

He didn't have much time to dwell on the matter, however, because suddenly Draco exclaimed, "What is _she_ doing here?"

Hadrian turned to see Blaise Zabini strolling into Malfoy Manor in his newest dress robes–probably straight off the runway from Italy–with a spring in his step. But he suspected the ' _she_ ' Draco had referred to was the pretty redhead haughtily holding onto Blaise's arm and looking every bit the elegant pureblood.

Ginevra Weasley was dressed in long, sweeping chiffon robes of powder blue, and her hair had been artfully pinned up with an ornate silver clip. She wore a subtle layer of makeup on her face, only enough to enhance her naturally beautiful features.

Hadrian did his best to contain his surprised, but still pleased smile. Draco, however, did nothing to conceal his shock, and he gaped openly at the second year.

"Hadrian. Draco. Can I introduce you to Ginevra Weasley?" Blaise grinned, fully aware of the disbelief his friends were feeling. When he had deposited Ginevra into the lap of his mother with directions to "make her presentable" he hadn't expected much. But his mother was absolutely delighted with the thought of finally having a girl to dress up and so she had spent the entire afternoon preparing Ginevra Weasley for the Malfoy Ball. When Ginevra had _finally_ appeared on the steps of Zabini Manor, Blaise had almost tripped in surprise. The initial astonishment had faded into a strange feeling of pride at the way she was so poised and at least _seemed_ graceful.

"We've met." Draco said flatly, avoiding Ginevra's amused gaze.

Blaise couldn't keep the proud smile off his face, "You haven't met _this_ girl before, I can assure you that."

Hadrian brushed his lips over the back of her hand and looked up at her with a hidden smirk, "Yes, we certainly haven't met Lady Weasley before."

Ginevra blushed.

Blaise wasn't sure whether she was blushing because of Hadrian's stupid grin, or because she had never been called by her proper pureblood title. His smile stiffened imperceptibly.

"Come on Ginevra, I believe you promised me a dance." He drawled, gently tugging her towards the few couples already swaying about the dance floor.

She smiled demurely at them in lieu of a goodbye, but Hadrian could see the smug glint in her eyes. He shrugged; she deserved to gloat a bit. After all, she _had_ managed to transform herself from penniless riffraff into a proper pureblood.

"Was that Ginevra Weasley I just saw?" A familiar voice called out, and Hadrian smiled at the mere sound. He greeted her parents and directed them towards the Malfoys before moving his gaze to their eldest daughter.

"Lady Greengrass," He spoke warmly. She offered him her hand but Hadrian boldly stepped forward and pressed a kiss to her cheek instead, smirking internally at her soft gasp.

"That was _mighty_ forward of you." Daphne raised an eyebrow, shooing her sister away with a slight pink tinge to her cheeks. "And before you even told me how I look tonight?" She pretended to shake her head in disapproval.

"The whole world knows how even the stars pale in comparison to you," He sighed melodramatically, "And yet you need to hear it from me?"

"Oh Hadrian," She smiled, "You're the _only_ one I want to hear it from."

"Very well, then. Lady Greengrass, you look absolutely stunning this evening. I can't even find the words to describe how breathtaking you are."

"I can give you two a few words: Cringe-worthy, sickening, and terribly revolting." Draco Malfoy muttered, loud enough for them both to hear.

"Thank you for your opinion, Draco." Hadrian scowled at his best friend, "It's greatly appreciated."

He smiled back at Daphne, who was trying to hide her laughter behind her hand, and offered her his arm, "Would you like to dance, Lady Greengrass?"

"I'd like nothing more, Lord Riddle." Daphne took his arm with a coy smile and allowed him to lead her towards the dance floor.

* * *

From across the room, Lucius Malfoy picked up his emptied glass of champagne and removed his attentive gaze from Hadrian Riddle to search for his wife. He found her a few seconds later, speaking to one of the ladies from her monthly charity luncheons.

He smoothly wrapped an arm around Narcissa's waist, smiling charmingly at the rather large woman who hid a shy giggle at the mere sight of him. Lucius didn't think it was prudent for someone of her age to be affected by his presence, but he did have that effect on the ladies, so he supposed he couldn't blame her.

As if his wife had heard the direction of his thoughts, she politely excused them from the conversation and nudged him towards one of the more isolated corners of the ballroom.

"Lucius, darling. You have something to tell me?" She stated, smiling over at one of the elder matriarchs. It wasn't a question.

"I have some matters to take care of, my love." He admitted apologetically.

She nodded, gripping the stem of her wineglass tighter in her hands, "And it's tonight, then?"

"I'm afraid so, Narcissa."

"He's always so dramatic. Never lets the poor child fully enjoy the ball," Narcissa tsked, letting her eyes linger on Hadrian and the Greengrass girl dancing near the middle of the ballroom.

"I don't think he cares very much about the festivities today," Lucius Malfoy shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck, "He's never been the sentimental type."

"Are you travelling via portkey?" Narcissa asked curiously, "Side-Along Apparition might be too risky for such a trip."

Lucius nodded, raising his champagne flute slightly in what could've passed as a toast. It certainly looked harmless enough to go unnoticed. He pressed a quick kiss to his wife's temple and with a sweep of his cloak he disappeared into the crowd.

 **Potter Manor [December 25** **th** **]**

Alexander Potter ignored the tray of now cold food that had been delivered to his room about an hour ago by some dirty looking houself. He had also ignored the several calls from his mother to come down for Christmas dinner in favor of flipping through the current book that was lying in front of him on his bed.

He turned another page mechanically, scanning through the giant tome with narrowed eyes, muttering to himself, "Memory loss…memory loss… memory loss…"

He wasn't crazy. Contrary to what Ron and Dean and his parents and the whole world had to say, he was certainly not insane. Something had happened to him last year, and he was starting to get concerned that nobody would even listen to him about it anymore. Even though he was considered to be the Savior of the Wizarding World.

He could feel it in his bones. Something wasn't right. He _knew_ he was missing his memories. And he _knew_ Hadrian Riddle had something to do with it.

Alexander tightened his grip on the book as the mere name of that no good Slytherin ponce instantly brought an unfathomable amount of rage to him. He was convinced that Hadrian Riddle had it out for him, for some reason. It was more than just house rivalry. Every time that Riddle glanced at him, his eyes were almost black with ice-cold anger edged beneath his taunting sneers and sarcasm. It was almost inhuman the way Riddle was capable of a look of such hatred.

One thing was for certain; Hadrian Riddle looked at him as though he was more than just the source of all his misery–Riddle looked at him as though he had ruined his entire life.

Though that was impossible, of course. He'd only met the sadistic blighter in first year–though he'd disliked him immediately–and he didn't think their occasional standoffs were enough to earn him such looks of abhorrence.

He supposed it didn't matter why the Slytherin tosser hated him. All that mattered was that Riddle was definitely the cause behind his memory loss. If only he could find proof. He couldn't even use his invisibility cloak to sneak down to the dungeons again to eavesdrop on Riddle's friends, seeing as he'd lost the cloak down in the Chamber of Secrets, and he didn't remember where that was anymore.

He sighed to himself and turned another page, lazily skimming through the blocks of text until his eyes suddenly hit a bolded heading.

 **Restoring Memories**

 _When one's memories have been erased, shattered, Obliviated, or stolen, it is difficult, and in some cases, even impossible to retrieve them. The mind cannot be stitched back together once broken, except in cases where the victim has been a master at Occlumency at the time in which the memories were destroyed or taken. If the caster of the Obliviation spell was not quite experienced or intended to return the memories at a later point in time, this can make it possible for the victim to retrieve his or her memories intact. This method does not stitch the mind back together, but is rather like a missing puzzle piece has been returned and the mind can function smoothly once more. Even so, this method is highly dangerous and the caster can risk losing more of their memory, or even further damaging their mind in the process. Those who believe they possess the skill and discipline for this method will find the Reditus spell a sufficient spell to begin with._

 _Spell: Reditus_

 _Intention: Returns lost memories_

 _Incantation: Redito_

Alexander Potter blinked at the information on the page. He glanced briefly at the warning that suggested only a licensed Healer should be trusted to perform this spell, and promptly ignored it. He needed to know what had happened in the Chamber of Secrets. He needed to see Hadrian Riddle practice himself.

He pulled his wand out from the tangled sheets around his torso and practiced the wand movements as shown in the book. When he was confident he had perfected the spell, he swallowed hard.

He pointed the wand directly between his eyes as the book had shown in the diagram. He sucked in a deep breath and closed his eyes.

Alexander twisted his wrist in the practiced motion and whispered, "Redito".

Suddenly, he felt his entire head tighten, and he dropped his wand in shock. His hands immediately shot up to cradle his head and he couldn't help the bloodcurdling scream that escaped his lips. He bit down on his tongue hard enough to draw blood in an attempt to distract him from the intense, sharp pain in his mind. It felt as though someone was repeatedly slamming a nail into his skull, just waiting for it to split open.

His eyes were screwed shut, but he began to see flashes of images in the darkness. He saw split second visions of him as a toddler, running around with another boy his age.

Black hair, piercing green eyes.

Bright green flames

Stained tears

Blood spilled across marble floors

His head was pounding as he gasped for air, vaguely hearing footsteps stomping near him. He saw the boy again, reading a book on a bed in a room that looked just like his room.

He touched the book.

It burned him.

Red, raw blisters appeared on his hands.

The other boy smiled.

Something about… _gardening?_

And then all of a sudden, the pain stopped. The throbbing and pounding in his mind dulled to almost nothing, and the piercing feeling slowly faded away. He choked on his own breath, panting and feeling a drop of sweat dribble down his nose.

"Alexander! Alexander, are you alright?" He heard his father shout.

"Call the Healer!" His mother screamed.

Alexander opened his eyes slightly and glanced at his parents with incredibly blurry vision. His mouth dropped open and he struggled to keep his head up. He felt himself grasp for his mother's hand.

Alexander Potter stared blankly at his mother's worried face and asked her a question that made her worry turn to ash.

"Where is Harry?"


	8. Soldier

**A/N: So I've decided (tentatively) that I'll be updating this story once a month. I know that might disappoint some of you, but god, it takes so long for me to write a chapter. It's around 15-17 pages each, and that's around 6000 words. Plus adding the fact that I'm a perfectionist and Writer's Block is like a chronic condition at this point, I think a month is about how long I need. I hope this doesn't deter you from reading further. On the bright side, hopefully this will put an end to the 4 month long hiatuses? So sorry about that, can't apologize enough. Anyways, I hope you enjoy this new chapter. Please review if you can, you know how I appreciate them and I enjoy reading your feedback–it helps me become a better writer. Let me know what you think, even if it's a quick "Great" or "wow this sucks" (Just kidding, please don't write it sucks without at least telling me why lol)**

 **Onwards!**

 **Malfoy Manor [December 25** **th** **]**

"Should I get the chicken or fish?" Hadrian wondered aloud, staring at the embossed list of entrees in his hands. The menu itself contained around a hundred dishes, all edged with swirls of meticulous golden calligraphy. Only the best for Narcissa Malfoy, Hadrian smirked internally.

"The oven-roasted duck sounds delicious," Daphne commented, swirling a glass of sparkling liquid delicately in her fingers.

Destiny looked between them and frowned, crossing her arms across her chest. "I think it's downright cruel that so many poor animals are killed just because Aunt Cissy wants to throw a fancy ball. I've decided I'm going to go vegetarian."

"But what about the poor asparagus that was violently ripped out of the ground, then?" Blaise mocked, openly stabbing into his filet mingnon and taking a bite. He made a big show of chewing viciously and then smiled, "Mm, delicious."

Destiny looked irritated and she turned to Neville with a glare, expecting him to go along with her newest cause. Neville shrunk down in his seat and shrugged meekly, "The salad looks nice?"

Destiny huffed as her friends tried to stifle their laughter around her. Suddenly, there was a rough voice behind her, causing her to flinch in her seat.

"Hadrian." Lucius Malfoy barked, startling Daphne enough to almost fall out of her chair.

Hadrian dropped the menu onto his plate. He raised a disinterested eyebrow, "Yes, Lord Malfoy?"

"I'd like to have a word with you. If you'd follow me, please."

Hadrian glanced back at Daphne wearily, and she mouthed, "Go."

He sighed and shifted out of his chair, not bothering to hide his glare as he gestured for the elder Malfoy to lead the way. He gave everyone at his table a half-hearted wave as he trailed after Lucius.

Once they were out of view from the other guests, Hadrian crossed his arms. "I am _not_ going anywhere."

Lucius blinked, "What?"

"I am not going to get kidnapped for the _third_ year in a row. This has got to stop! Can father not pick a different date! He does this every year!" Hadrian hissed. He was _this_ close to stomping his foot in exasperation.

"I'm not here to kidnap you, you twit." Lucius scowled. He pushed the champagne glass he was holding towards Hadrian. "Here. Narcissa said she wants you to fetch the Minister a glass of champagne. She wanted you to be especially polite and charm him so he thinks favorably of you."

Hadrian stared at the glass suspiciously. After debating for a few seconds, he reluctantly reached a hand out and tapped his foot impatiently.

Lucius slowly passed it over to him, an impassive expression on his face. Hadrian felt the cool glass in his hands, and then in a split second it slid out of his grip and shattered into a thousand tiny pieces on the marble floor.

He cocked his head to the side innocently, "Oh, I seem to have lost my grip. That was entirely my fault. I'll go fetch another glass."

Lucius Malfoy growled and grabbed Hadrian's shoulder, "You shouldn't have done that."

"Why not?" Hadrian challenged, "What was so special about that glass?"

The elder Malfoy smirked, "It would've saved you this trip."

And without another word, Hadrian felt the world swirl around him and something tugged at his navel violently. Everything around him disappeared and morphed into a ripple of different backgrounds. He felt the nausea start to kick in and his chest tightened painfully.

After what seemed like an eternity, he finally was thrown onto the ground quite roughly if he were to judge, and he felt his stomach seize. He let out a ragged breath, panting slightly.

"I'm pleased you could make it."

Hadrian groaned as he heard his father's voice over his head. He somehow managed to pull himself into a sitting position, and he glared up at the red eyes he had grown so accustomed to over the years.

"Every year. Can't you at least tell me about it beforehand? A warning would be nice. Always so fond of the bloody dramatics." Hadrian rolled his eyes and then demanded hoarsely, "Why am I here?"

His father snapped his head over to look at Lucius Malfoy, who seemed completely unaffected by the sudden side-along apparition.

"Lucius, I believe I requested you talk to Hadrian about the mission tonight."

Lucius Malfoy froze, and his eyes darted around in a mild panic. The list hadn't said anything about informing Hadrian about the raid. In no words did it say to talk to Hadrian about–suddenly, a cold feeling of dread crept into his bones.

"Wh-When you said 'Give Hadrian the talk', did you mean the talk about the raid tonight? And what is expected of him?"

"What else would I be asking?" The Dark Lord sneered, "It's not as thought I can explicitly write out everything. Imagine if the list had gotten into the wrong hands?"

Lucius Malfoy stared down at the ground, nervously digging his expensive shoes into the dirt, "I–forgive me, my lord, but I was under the impression that you had asked me to give Hadrian the talk," He paused, and muttered quickly, "the sexual education talk."

Lord Voldemort simply blinked at the man that was supposed to be his second in command. Eventually after Lucius Malfoy was squirming under his cold, red, gaze, the Dark Lord rolled his eyes up to the sky and gritted his teeth, "I am surrounded by idiots."

He rubbed his temples in utter frustration and growled, "I'll deal with your incompetence later, Lucius. And Hadrian," The Dark Lord turned sharply and waved his hand. Instantly, the boy that had been slowly trying to inch away from the scene was frozen in place with an annoyed look permanently plastered onto his sharp features.

"Where do you think you're going?" His father sneered, "You can't apparate, you don't have a portkey, and this is Muggle London. Where did you think you could have gone?"

"Anywhere but here would've been nice."

Lord Voldemort ignored him and instead spoke directly to Lucius, "Pair him with Black. The boy will keep that blood traitor in line." His gaze flicked back to his son, "And if I find you were unable to control that mutt, then I sincerely hope you'll be prepared for the consequences that follow."

"What are you going to do, curse me?" Hadrian muttered under his breath, walking way from his father with an annoyed slouch. Suddenly, he yelped as he felt a stinging sensation shock him on his bottom. He snapped his head around and glared at his father, who had a faux innocent look on his face.

"Forgive me, my wand seemed to have slipped," Lord Voldemort smiled benevolently, "Now get to your position."

Hadrian gave his father a scathing look; "It would be helpful if someone actually told me where that was."

* * *

Hadrian could feel Sirius staring at him for the umpteenth time. Every time he turned to face him, however, the man would turn his gaze back to the row of muggle homes they were supposed to be scouting. Subtlety clearly wasn't his strong suit.

He finally cleared his throat and turned to face his assigned partner, "Do you have something to say to me, or is my face simply so handsome you can't tear your eyes away?"

"Seems that barmy adoption ceremony you told me about didn't seem to erase the narcissism you inherited from James Potter," Sirius snorted.

Hadrian rolled his eyes, "Have you seen my father? He calls himself 'Lord Voldemort'. For Merlin's sake, his goal in life is to instill fear of his mere name in the hearts of others. I don't think you can get any more self-obsessed than that."

"I almost forgot about that part." Sirius grinned wryly. He raked his gaze over the houses again, "Speaking of which, I'm still not clear on what we're supposed to be doing."

Hadrian sighed, "We wait for the signal, and then once the muggles rush out of their homes, we curse anyone we can get our hands on."

There was a loud bark of laughter as Sirius tried–and failed–to keep his composure. He ran his fingers through his hair and chuckled, "I meant what are we _actually_ supposed to do."

Hadrian gave the other man a cold, hard look and watched half amusedly as his laughter suddenly evaporated.

Sirius raised an eyebrow, a panicked look twisting his face into a worried frown, "Are you serious?"

Hadrian bit his lip, "No, _you're_ Sirius."

Sirius Black–fed up with lifetime jokes about the gravity of his name–felt his eye twitch at the poorly disguised attempt to distract him. He gritted his teeth together and snapped, "Are we expected to slaughter these innocent muggles?"

The other boy shrugged, "Not _slaughter_ , per se. Just torture and maim enough–"

"Enough to what?"

Hadrian scowled, "How am I supposed to know? Enough to make sure they die a painful death, or to alert the Order or the Ministry or even the bloody Daily Prophet! Does it look like my father tells me anything about his plans?" He folded his arms, a bitter look of resentment curling at his lip, "I'm simply expected to follow his commands. I'm a soldier in his army, nothing more."

Sirius felt his hands tremble. He shook his head vehemently, "I am _not_ doing this, kid. I can't–I'm not a murderer–It's not–I can't!"

Hadrian smirked coldly, "It's not as if you have any choice in the matter."

The heir to the House of Black stiffened as he slowly turned to face the boy. "What the bloody hell is that supposed to mean?"

He flinched as Hadrian grabbed his arm abruptly and pushed up the sleeves to his black robes. Together they stared at the violent black marring the pale skin of his left forearm. The skin around the dark mark was puckered red and raw, still healing from the torture it had gone through just a week earlier.

Hadrian pointed to the dark mark, "This is not just a simple tattoo, Sirius. It's a form of branding. You've already given up your life to Lord Voldemort. You don't realize it but he's pressing a wand to your neck just waiting for you to make one wrong move. And once you do," Hadrian slid a hand across his throat in a slicing motion. "You're dead. That mark controls your every move."

He glanced down at his feet and sighed, "You might've had a chance to run before, but after the mark there is no hiding. Now you're always connected to him. There is no escape."

"Where's your mark then, kid?" Sirius demanded hotly, yanking his sleeve down to cover the mark that had been burned deep into his skin despite his protests.

Hadrian Riddle chuckled. It was a sharp sound coated with something dark–like blood smeared onto a knife. _No thirteen-year old should be capable of even making such a noise_ , _Sirius thought._

"Don't you understand? I don't need some mark tattooed onto my skin. I _am_ the mark."

"I'm sorry, but what the blistering hippogriff are you talking about," Sirius asked in a harsh tone.

" _His_ blood runs in my veins. _His_ teachings have made me who I am. The dark mark is simply a means to control his followers," Hadrian paused and gave the man a wry smile, "I'm already under his control. I already have nowhere to run. This is my _only_ choice. Now why would the Dark Lord waste his time branding someone who is already chained to his feet?"

"An extra measure of security?" Sirius offered.

Hadrian turned back to staring at the muggle houses, "I mean it's possible but– _Fuck."_

Sirius followed Hadrian's gaze and he froze at the sight. The entire area that they had been assigned to oversee was bathed in the warm glow of nearby fires. The combination of the smoke and heat had the residents of the homes fleeing their buildings, trying to run away only to be met with another wall of fire.

"They must've given us the signal a while ago! Shit!" Hadrian cursed loudly, fumbling to take out his wand, "Get ready!"

Sirius stared in horror at the scene before him. "N–No I can't do this. I don't care; I'm not a Death Eater. I may have the mark, I may be an enemy of the Order, but I am _not_ a murderer!"

Hadrian eyed the quickly increasing mob with unease.

"I refuse!" Sirius continued to ramble nervously, "I can't do this!"

Hadrian glared at his partner, "Sirius, I swear to Merlin, you will be _killed_ if you do not follow orders. They'll chop you up alive and feed your limbs to a wearwolf! Open your eyes and realize you have no choice!"

Sirius began to back away, his eyes widening in horror.

Hadrian felt his fists clench. His father would string him from the rafters if he discovered he was unable to even control someone like Sirius Black. He'd surely have to spend a couple days in the dungeon while his father practiced his newly invented curses on him. And not to mention, usually the dungeons also meant no Christmas presents either.

Oh, and Sirius would definitely be killed.

There was too much to risk on this mission if Sirius decided not to complete his task.

Hadrian glanced fleetingly at the mob of muggles. He looked back at Sirius, who was on the verge of a mental breakdown. Hadrian made a split decision. He gritted his teeth together, "Fuck it. I am _not_ letting you die for this!"

He turned his wand on Sirius and hissed, "Imperio,"

He waited until the man's eyes turned glassy before giving his commands; "You are going to curse the hell out of any muggle you see tonight. Make them bleed, and destroy them. And if they somehow still survive," Hadrian paused and his voice hardened, "Make them want to die."

 **Potter Manor [December 25** **th** **]**

"Where is Harry?" Alexander Potter demanded, for what was probably the third time that minute. His parents were both frozen in shock, anger, frustration, he wasn't quite sure.

"Where is he?" Alexander repeated, with a harsh tone. He had been lied to his entire life. Somebody he knew, somebody he trusted–maybe even one of his parents–had taken his memory and robbed him of a brother he never knew he had.

"Where is he?" He asked desperately, "Is he alive?"

That seemed to stir his parents out of the strange motionless state they were in, and his father glanced up with a deep scowl marring his features, "Harry is none of your concern."

"That is _bullshit_ ," Alexander hissed, grinding his teeth together, "He's my _brother_."

"Language!" Lily Potter snapped briskly. Her bottom lip quivered and her body began to shake with the familiar dread that always overcame her at the thought of her other son.

"Don't lie to me!" The younger Potter yelled, clutching his head in an effort to stave off the headache that was quickly approaching. "Everyone just feeds me lies, thinking I'm not smart enough to find the truth. I'm not daft! Tell me the truth! Where is Harry? What happened to him?"

"Harry was troubled," James Potter blurted out, "Even at such a young age, he had problems that even we didn't notice at first."

Lily felt her shoulders stiffen.

"What do you mean?" Alexander asked quietly, finally calming down from his frustrated rage.

James pinched the bridge of his nose and shut his eyes, "Harry was your twin brother. You used to do everything together. When you were younger, he stayed in this very room with you. You were inseparable. Even though Harry couldn't speak, and you were our little firecracker. Your mother always said you did the talking for the both of you."

"He couldn't speak?" Alexander frowned, "But–"

"We think he might have been a squib, you see," His father elaborated, "He couldn't speak, he never showed any signs of magic, and he always shied away from everyone. He was basically a muggle. Even by muggle standards, he was rather behind."

"But we still loved him very much," Lily cut in, clasping her hands tightly in her lap. "Squib, muggle, or wizard, we loved him either way."

"Where is he, then?" Alexander swallowed, "Is he still alive?"

Lily closed her eyes. _Yes_ , she wanted to scream. _Yes_. Her Harry was still alive. _Yes_. Her Harry was still in this world, despite everything that had happened to him. What _she_ had done to him. He was still breathing, still living. He had survived.

But she couldn't say any of this. It was too risky to find her other son, wherever he was. She could've walked by him during a stroll down Diagon Alley, and she'd never know. She could've smiled at him as she shopped in Muggle London. He could've smiled back at her, an empty smile–the kind you would give to a stranger. That's all she was to her son, even though he was alive and breathing. Not a mother, just a stranger.

And so she choked down a sob, as she whispered, "No Your brother–Harry–He is no longer with us."

It was so easy to pretend he didn't exist. So easy to act as though she didn't know the truth. To the rest of the world, Harry was dead. Her own husband didn't know, even Dumbledore didn't know. She paused. She _hoped_ Dumbledore didn't know. Because if he had known all along her baby boy was alive, and had purposely lied to her for years–Lily promised herself that man would be left in tatters when she was done cursing the life out of him.

"What happened to him?" Alexander asked hesitantly, as if dreading the answer.

 _We signed his death warrant. We killed him. It was our entire fault_.

James shrugged. "Death Eaters. "

Lily snapped her gaze over to her husband. A cold feeling began creeping into her bones and her stomach lurched at the way each careless lie tumbled out of his mouth.

"They attacked Potter Manor on your sixth birthday," James continued, "Somehow they got past our wards and snatched him right out our home. Though, you were rather young so it's probably difficult for you to remember." He lied.

"You mean you obliviated me of the memory?" Alexander sneered, the anger returning full force. Who did they think they were? Just because they were his parents didn't give them the right to take away his memories by force.

"Obliviating you wasn't our idea," Lily answered truthfully, "That was Headmaster Dumbledore. He thought it would be too traumatic for you and would hurt you in the long run. He decided Obliviating you would be best for the future of the wizarding world."

"If the Death Eaters took Harry, how do we know he's truly dead?"

"Of course they murdered him!" James Potter exclaimed. "He's a child of the light, and he was so helpless and young. They had no use for him and they murdered him in cold blood. Monsters, the lot of them." He spit out. Almost as an afterthought, he added, "There was that bit about the Prophecy, I suppose."

"What Prophecy?"

"The one that declared you the Chosen One. When you both were born, we weren't sure which one of you was actually the Savior. We figured it must have been you, since Harry was basically a squib. And when the Death Eaters killed him, we didn't have a choice. You _had_ to be the Chosen One," James explained.

"So you mean, he could've been the Savior? I wasn't destined to be the Chosen One at birth?" Alexander's eyes widened in shock.

"Oh sweetie, you were always the Chosen One," Lily assured him. "Harry was just…"

"In the way." James Potter interrupted, not noticing the way his wife's eyes flashed at his words. "The Death Eaters took your brother from us. They did this to our family."

"We can't let them get away with this!" Alexander growled, clenching his hands into fists against his side. "They have Harry's blood on their hands and they will _pay_. I will make them."

"That's why we're fighting this war, son." James Potter smiled wryly, "For _Harry_."

Later at night when Lily was peeling back the covers to her massive luxurious bed, she paused.

"Why not tell Alexander the truth?"

James Potter rolled his eyes, tossing some of the decorative pillows on the floor, "And the truth is?"

She climbed into the bed with a sigh, "That _we_ sent Harry away. There were no Death Eaters involved. Harry's death was _our_ fault. We _murdered_ our child."

Her husband groaned, "For the thousandth time, Lily. Quit being so dramatic for Merlin's sake. That boy's death was not our fault. We sent him away because he was troubled. Nothing but a useless squib that had a dark flair. Dumbledore told me that boy might've even started the attack all those years ago. We didn't _murder_ anyone. If anything, we did the world a favor. Telling Alexander that Death Eaters killed Harry only makes him _more_ determined to train harder and fight to avenge his brother. "

Lily screwed her eyes shut. The mattress sank a bit as her husband slipped into the bed, a good distance away from her. She her back to him and whispered, "How can you say that, he was our child, James."

"Any child like that is no child of mine," James Potter huffed, wandlessly turning off the lights in their room, "I say good riddance."

Lily waited until the sound of his breathing slowed into a steady, sleep heavy, rhythm, and she wrapped her arms around herself. "I'll find you, Harry. I'll do anything to bring you back."

 **Malfoy Manor [December 26** **th** **: 2 am]**

By the time Hadrian returned, it looked like the Christmas Ball at Malfoy Manor had ended hours ago. As he walked through the ornate ballroom, a team of strangely efficient houselves were carefully tugging down the intricate drapery and dismantling the champagne fountain as they cleaned. A houself trailed after him, scrubbing furiously at the muddy footsteps he had tracked in from outside.

He scratched at his face, groaning internally when he saw the familiar streak of red across his fingers. He rubbed his sleeve across his cheek, wiping off the blood that had dried on his face. He felt especially disgusted, knowing it wasn't _his_ blood he was wiping off.

"Sirius, move faster." He barked, turning around to glare at the man that had followed him into the hall. The imperious curse had worn off long ago, and now he was on the receiving end of the angry looks Sirius was shooting at him.

Sirius Black trudged sullenly after the Dark Lord's heir, too weak to argue. His face had turned three shades paler that night out of sheer horror. After he had been imperioused, he could barely remember what he had done. Everything was a blur of wands, screams, and blood. He vaguely recalled slashing his wand in the air, foreign spells he had never even heard of tumbling out of his lips.

 _He remembered being unable to fight off the imperious curse. He felt his willpower dissipate as his body moved across the field, slicing and hexing and cursing anyone he came into contact with. There was a battle going on outside, but all Sirius could focus on was trying to shake off the imperioused commands inside of him. It was slightly alarming that a thirteen year old could cast such a strong unforgivable._

Sirius sucked in a shaky breath.

 _He remembered the liberating feeling when he felt the curse slowly wear off an hour or two later. He had immediately hobbled to a nearby a tree and bent over, vomiting the entire contents of stomach. He had flinched as he felt Hadrian lean against the tree and just watch him, unfazed._

" _Are you satisfied?" Sirius had spit out with contempt, "Accomplished your mission of sadism? Nothing like a field of dead muggles to bring a smile to your face, eh?"_

 _Hadrian gritted his teeth together, "I expected a thank you, of sorts."_

" _Oh yes, my dear junior Dark Lord. Thank you so much for pushing your presence into my mind and commanding me to murder for you. It's honestly the best Christmas gift I've received."_

 _Hadrian rubbed his temples, "Shut up, Sirius. Whether or not you realize it, I saved your bloody life. Next time, I won't be so generous."_

" _Keep your generosity to yourself." Sirius hissed. He averted his gaze at the sight of the lower ranked Death Eaters exploding and setting fire to the pile of bodies in the field. He knew the muggle newspapers would declare the horrific incident a freak explosion, or the result of an uncontrollable fire. They'd never know these innocent muggles were murdered in cold blood. There simply wasn't enough left of them to come that conclusion._

" _How can you support something like this?" He demanded to know. "These are innocents. What could they ever have done to you?"_

 _Hadrian shrugged, "I'm following my orders. Like I said before, I'm a soldier in the army. A pawn on my father's chessboard. I am who he made me to be."_

" _You can't honestly condone this–" Sirius gestured to the gruesome sight before them, "This cannot be who you are."_

" _I told you," Hadrian ground out evenly, "It's not my turn to play, yet."_

" _And when will it be you who's in control?"_

 _Hadrian Riddle had the audacity to smile, "Trust me, Sirius Black. You and the entire Wizarding World will know when it's my turn to play."_

"Sirius Black. Third Circle. You are not authorized to enter this room. You are herby granted permission to return to your quarters."

The new voice startled Sirius out of his thoughts. They had stopped at the end of one of the endless corridors in Malfoy Manor, right in front of a pair of heavy looking double doors. He turned to look at Hadrian in question. Hadrian shrugged, glancing at the Death Eater in front of them with blatant derision.

"Goodnight, Sirius." Hadrian dismissed him with a wave of a hand, watching out of the corner of his eye as the man nodded and slowly backed out of view.

"My Lord," The Death Eater addressed Hadrian as he respectfully lowered his head, "The Dark Lord requests your presence inside. Please, if there is anything else you require–"

"See if you can track down some of those appetizers from earlier at the Christmas ball. I expect a plate when I walk out of my meeting with my father," Hadrian paused before opening the doors, "If I don't find them on a platter upon my departure, it will be your head on that platter. Do you understand?"

The man nodded vigorously, "Yes, my lord."

Hadrian felt his lips curve up into a pleased smirk, "Good."

He pushed the doors open and walked into the room, instantly feeling on edge. To his chagrin the room was empty, save for his father who was leaning back in his chair at the head of the long table in a position of faux relaxation.

"Father." He addressed curtly. "I hope the raid done tonight met your satisfaction."

"Am I _satisfied_?" Lord Voldemort frowned, as if deep in thought.

"We did manage to wipe out an entire small town of muggles. That was your intention, was it not? Petty violence." Hadrian raised an eyebrow in challenge.

"It frightens me how little you know of our true aims." His father sighed, folding his hands together on the table. Hadrian eyed his father's wand sitting innocently on the table with a sense of unease.

"Are you telling me we slaughtered an entire community for reasons other than you simply like to kill muggles and prove how weak they are?"

"Let's say that was the true reason. I happen to be incredibly bloodthirsty and I enjoy seeing muggle blood flow like a river," His father smiled blandly, "What of it?"

Hadrian swallowed hard. He raised his chin up, ignoring the shaking tremor that travelled up his body, "I have no opinion on the matter, father. Your word is law."

"Exactly," Lord Voldemort nodded thoughtfully, "My word is law."

He stood up from his seat and reached for his wand, causing Hadrian to immediately cower and press his back to the wall in fear.

"Which is why it is so difficult for me to understand why you would deliberately try to ignore my words."

Hadrian shook his head, "N-No. I did everything you asked of me. I followed every single command."

"That's strange," His father cocked his head to the side, twirling his wand in his hand. "It must be my old age, but I don't recall asking you to imperious Sirius Black."

" _Technically_ you said to keep him under control." Hadrian pointed out, wincing when the Dark Lord's angry gaze fell over him. "You said he had to finish his task, no matter what."

"Tell me, Hadrian. Did it ever occur to you that if I wanted to simply have Sirius Black follow my commands, I could Imperious him myself?"

"Well–"

"I wanted that mutt sober and _clearly_ aware of every single action," His father growled, "I wanted him to go through with the mission on his own. I wanted him to _know_ that his dark mark took priority over his insipid morals. Sirius Black was supposed to consider his options and _choose_ our side willingly."

"I just _helped_ a little. He still remembers everything." Hadrian rationalized.

"But he remembers everything he did tonight was forced. He will justify it to himself over and over again. He'll decide this one raid meant nothing because he was not in control. It was not his sole decision," Lord Voldemort hissed.

"So you skipped a bit of the psychological torture. So what?" Hadrian shrugged.

"So he has memories, _real_ memories of being imperioused. If he's ever held on trial in front of the Wizengamot, he can easily be cleared of his crimes by citing this incident. He'll simply cleanse his hands of all blood by claiming he was imperioused. Most Death Eaters who are caught use the same excuse, but this time _he has proof_."

"I–I"

"You _what?_ " Lord Voldemort mocked, already leveling his wand towards Hadrian.

Hadrian walked in front of his father the and kneeled on the stone floor with resignation, "I didn't realize the impact my actions would have. I was just following what you've always told me: If I want something done right, I have to do it myself. I just wanted to complete the mission successfully, father. I accept any punishment you deign appropriate."

Lord Voldemort sighed heavily and pressed his wand painfully against Hadrian's forehead. "This is why you need to think ahead. I don't want to do this, but you're forcing my hand. All actions have consequences," He paused an a positively wicked gleam came into his eyes, "Since you seem to be so fond of the Imperious curse, why don't you help me test out a theory of mine."

"Imperio."

It was as if his brain clamped down on itself, and refused to even let him breathe without a direct command. The walls of his mind were suffocating him. He felt his thoughts fade as a harsh voice became the focus of his attention.

" _I've always how the Cruciatus Curse works when used in tandem with an Imperious. Does the pain become ten times worse when you know you're inflicting it on yourself? Let's find out."_

" _Cast the cruciatus curse on yourself. Hold it for two minutes."_

He tried to fight it. He really did. But the command was too strong to disobey, and soon Hadrian found himself pulling out his wand and whispering the curse.

He found himself writhing in pain on the floor in the next few seconds. He attempted to turn his wand away from himself, but it refused to budge. It was a strange result, Hadrian noted as he gasped for air as the pain crushed at his lungs.

He couldn't physically hold up his wand because of the blinding pain, but the imperious curse forced his hand to stay steady and so the curse continued to shoot out of his wand.

By the time his two minutes were finally up–his arm had dropped against his side, almost ready to fall out of its own socket–Hadrian felt as though he had gone to Hell and back. Black spots danced in his vision, and it hurt to take each breath.

He could feel his father's anger radiating in waves above him, and so he kept his blurry gaze trained to the floor.

"The Imperious curse can be efficient when used appropriately. But don't be reckless with it," Voldemort hissed, purposely stepping on Hadrian's hand as he walked past. Hadrian tried to muffle the whimper that fell out of his lips.

The ends of his father's robes brushed over his lifeless form. The Dark Lord paused at the door and snapped, "Clean yourself up. You have lessons with Bellatrix at six am, sharp."

Hadrian moaned in response, turning his head to the side. He wasn't sure how long he had lain there after his father had left the room. It could've been several long minutes or hours–he hadn't the slightest clue.

Even though the curse had stopped, and his wand had rolled out of his grasp, he still felt the aftereffects of the cruciatus. He felt nauseous and incredibly weak, as if something had sucked the life out of him like a dementor. He shut his eyes tiredly, feeling as though he could fall asleep on the rough stone floor at this point.

Suddenly, there was someone pressing a glass to his lips. Hadrian glanced up in shock and he locked gazes with a pair of beautiful blue eyes. He blinked. It was a girl. She was whispering something repeatedly, "It's just water, you need to drink it, Hadrian."

He was far too tired to think clearly at this point. He took a sip of the cold water tentatively. It soothed the burning in his throat and so he gulped down a few more sips, vaguely registering someone's fingers brush his hair aside.

"Oh Merlin, what did he do to you?"

 _That_ voice was very familiar, even in his befuddled state. He turned his head to the side, wincing slightly at the small movement. _Draco?_

"What are you doin' here?" He slurred.

"Mate, it's my bloody house," The blond replied in an amused tone, though Hadrian could see the concern etched on his friend's face.

"He's in bad shape–Destiny, you were right," The girl muttered in a panicked tone.

"Don't worry, I sneaked a few restorative potions from Aunt Narcissa earlier. It's not going to completely heal him, but it's all we can do right now," Another feminine voice responded from out of view.

The girl above him had now moved his head into her lap and was softly stroking his hair. It felt rather nice. He felt her press a vial to his lips and urged him to drink the contents. He felt his vision start to clear and his thoughts began to make a bit more sense with each vial that he tipped back, and so he drank the rest without complaint.

"Feeling better?" The girl stroking his hair asked softly. When Hadrian looked up at her, he was surprised to see Daphne's face staring back at him.

"Daphne?" He whispered slowly, feeling the lead feeling in his tongue slowly start to fade as he spoke, "What are you doing here?" He raked his gaze around the room and was shocked to see all his friends–minutes Hermione, of course– gathered around him with matching expressions of worry.

"Destiny said you would need us, and so we convinced our parents to let us spend the night at Malfoy Manor," Blaise explained. He whistled softly, "Good thing we came prepared."

"D-Did He-Who-Must–Did the Dark Lord do this to you?" Neville asked in a shaky tone, his face turning pale at the sight of Hadrian sprawled across the floor. "I–I don't understand. I thought you were his son?"

"He's the Dark Lord, not father of the year, Neville," Destiny snorted.

"How did you know I was here?" Hadrian questioned, ignoring Neville for the moment, "How did you find me?"

Draco scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, "Well, uh, we could hear you screaming from our rooms upstairs." He averted his gaze, "I don't think the Dark Lord silenced the room."

Hadrian didn't realize he had been screaming, let alone so loudly. His cheeks flushed under their pitying glances. "I'm fine," He insisted.

"You don't have to lie to us, Hadrian. We _know_ what happened," Daphne murmured. She seemed to pull something from behind her, and she handed the rolled up parchment to him, "Which is part of the reason we wanted to give you this."

He glanced at her curiously as he unrolled the parchment. His fingers began to shake and his eyes snapped up to meet his friends, "What's this?"

"We couldn't see you while the Dark Lord was–er–speaking to you, so we decided to create this while we waited," Destiny responded. "It's old blood magick and it might also be slightly illegal," She sucked in a deep breath, "But it's an iron clad binding. There's no backing out now."

"Do you idiots realize what you just did?" Hadrian demanded hotly, staring at the parchment in his hands, "Are you mental?"

"We know what we did." Neville gritted his teeth together.

"No, I don't think you do. You've just signed your loyalty over to him, the Dark, the Death Eaters–this–you can't do this! You don't understand," Hadrian insisted, scanning over the names on the page. They were all there and each was accompanied with a fingerprint stamped in not ink, but what Hadrian assumed was their own blood.

"No, I don't think you understand," Blaise smirked, "We didn't sign our loyalty over to the Dark."

Hadrian paused, mid tirade. He raised an eyebrow, "But it says–"

"I hope you never study magical law, or become a lawyer," Draco sighed dramatically, "Read the fine print, Hadrian."

Daphne smiled, a sweet little smile, as though she hadn't participated in a blood ritual so dark it was banned in most parts of the country, "Oh Hadrian, we didn't sign over our loyalty to your father. We signed it over to _you_."


	9. Pride

**A/N: So I have no idea what in the last chapter made you all think Hadrian was going light (I must be blind to it or something lol) but I can assure you, he is, was, and always will be part of the Dark. Actually, he's more of a gray. I didn't agree with Voldemort's method in cannon because he was basically a bloodthirsty toddler. Hadrian wants the same thing as his father (kind of), but he's going about it in a less insane way. He doesn't believe in killing the** _ **innocent**_ **or mass murdering for no reason. If anything, it makes him smarter and actually** _ **more**_ **Dark because the best monsters have charming smiles and wicked minds.**

 **Also, I finally got around to fixing the messed up timeline in the beginning of the Dark Prince Series in the first book! Let me know if I missed something :)**

 **Anyways, as promised, a month-ish later (I might even be early for once) a new chapter! Enjoy!**

 **Hogwarts Castle [February 23** **rd** **]**

"Sleeping on the floor," Draco snorted, "What, we can't afford mattresses now?" He looked at the ratty sleeping bag that had been passed out to everyone in the hall. He rubbed the bright red material between his fingers and frowned, "Polyester? Is this a joke? Do I look like a peasant?"

Hadrian merely glanced at his best friend–clad in a pair of black Egyptian silk pajamas and matching satin covered slippers–and silently concluded that _No, he did not look like a peasant._

"Draco, it's only for one night," Daphne chided, "Don't be so finicky, you sound like a spoiled child."

She stopped braiding her hair suddenly, "No, Hadrian, my bag has to face the _other_ direction, otherwise the moonlight from the windows interferes with the magic in my moisturizer."

Hadrian, who had been kind enough to help roll out Daphne's sleeping bag beside his own, paused and looked between the two blondes on either side of him, "You know, you two are a lot more alike than you think."

Daphne looked rather offended at this declaration, and she crossed her arms across her chest with a pout. "Are you honestly comparing me to ," She sniffed and gestured to Draco with a look of disdain, "That."

Draco ignored her indignation, "Why are we even staying here? I doubt the middle of the Great Hall is safer than our password protected _and_ warded common room."

"Because a student saw Sirius Black–or someone who looked like him–lurking near Hogwarts. The professors are convinced if he wanted to, Sirius could find his way inside the castle," Hadrian explained, "And for once, they aren't wrong. Ergo, they decided to herd everyone together like cattle to keep an eye on them collectively. Strength in numbers and all that."

Draco sat down on the top of his sleeping bag and leaned in slightly. He lowered his voice to a whisper, "What's Sirius doing near Hogwarts anyways? Isn't he supposed to be at Riddle Manor?"

Daphne shook her head, "Destiny told me he was moved to Lestrange Manor after the winter holidays. Lady Lestrange was supposed to keep an eye on him."

Hadrian let out a bark of laughter, "Lady Lestrange? You mean Bellatrix?"

She flushed slightly, "Well, technically speaking, Lady Lestrange _is_ her legal title. She's married to the head of the Lestrange bloodline. It's the polite way to address her."

"It's just, we've never heard _anyone_ refer to Aunt Bella as 'Lady Lestrange'," Draco snickered, "And if the Dark Lord thinks she's going to babysit Sirius, then all that dark magic has finally gone to his head because he's officially insane."

Daphne waved her hand in the air all of a sudden, "Oh look, it's Hermione!"

Hadrian shrugged, trying to dodge Daphne's hand as it flailed about trying to catch Hermione's attention, "Sirius is here because he's helping me learn the Patronus charm every Hogsmeade weekend."

Daphne's eyes lit up in realization, "So that's where you've been disappearing to!"

He shot her a teasing look, "Did you think I was sneaking off to go snog some other girl in the woods?"

"Don't joke, Hadrian," She wrinkled her nose, unzipping her sleeping bag with an aggressive movement.

"Absolutely," Draco agreed, "The idea that some girl would willingly snog you is by far the worst joke I've heard. In fact, it would be a bloody miracle if it ever happened."

"Well then, consider me blessed," Hadrian smirked, "The gods have given me a miracle."

Draco faltered, "Pansy doesn't count."

"Good, because it wasn't Pansy. I wouldn't want to step on your toes in that department."

Draco's eyes then immediately fell on Daphne, who turned pink in a matter of seconds. "No," He breathed in disbelief.

"I'm asleep," Daphne hissed, turning her back so she was facing away from them.

Draco pressed a hand to his heart dramatically, "Tell me it's not true! You willingly snogged this moron?"

"Hey!"

"I find I'm regretting it by the second," Daphne gritted her teeth together, hastening to change the subject, "Now, where is Hermione?"

"She's heading our way–Oh, speak of the devil, and the devil shall appear," Hadrian bit his lip, trying to hold in his amusement.

Draco followed his gaze, behind Hermione, until it landed on the tall girl with the razor sharp haircut that sashayed into the Great Hall, "Pansy isn't the devil, she's worse." He froze, "Oh no. She's coming towards us! Towards me! What do I do?"

Hadrian knew it wasn't proper, but his best friend trying to avoid Pansy Parkinson was one of his favorite Draco-meltdowns to watch. His already pale face would turn almost pure white, making the angry vein throbbing on his forehead especially visible.

"Hello everyone–"

"You!" Draco grabbed at Hermione's hand, practically pulling her onto the ground beside him, "You're sleeping here."

Hermione, who had been walking past to lay her sleeping bag beside Daphne, stared at their entwined hands for a second before yanking her hand out of his grip and giving him an angry glare.

"What are you doing?" She demanded to know, hands on her hips.

Hadrian answered her, since his friend was too busy hiding from a harmless teenage girl, "He's trying to avoid Pansy Parkinson."

Hermione's jaw dropped open, "You can't be serious."

"Sshh, she's coming!"

"Not that I'm fond of her or anything, but why do you hate her? She's still a pureblood, isn't she?" Hermione asked, smoothing out her sleeping bag on the floor.

Draco rubbed his temples in annoyance, "So? She's still annoying and dumb as rocks."

"Why can't you just tell her to shove off then?" The curly haired witch raised an eyebrow in question.

"Because then she cries," Draco mumbled, "And when she cries, I get a headache."

"She doesn't even seem that bad," Hermione commented as the girl herself approached the area the four of them had already claimed, "Just whiny."

"Draco! You walked here so fast from the dungeons! If I didn't know better, I'd think you were trying to run away from me," Pansy simpered, "But I forgive you, don't worry. Now I just need somebody strong to help me with my bag here."

Hermione snorted, "Then you're looking in the wrong place."

"Sorry, Pansy," Draco sighed, "Granger already claimed the spot."

Pansy stomped her foot, "Then make her move!"

He shrugged apologetically, "I can't. She's rather stubborn, if you hadn't noticed. Besides, I wouldn't want to get her mud-muggleborn filth on me."

Pansy nodded in understanding, "Oh, of course! Mother says mudbloods are getting more contagious than ever. I'll just go sleep by Millie then." She began to walk away in a strut she would never admit to having practiced in the mirror, giving Hermione a vicious sneer as she passed by. Pansy stopped in her tracks, turning her head back as she advised, "Keep yourself safe from that mudblood, Draco. Oh, and bye Hadrian."

Hadrian gave her a mocking three-fingered wave, trying to hide the amused grin tugging at his lips.

Hermione rolled her eyes when the girl was finally gone. "I can see why you all hate her now," She snuggled into her sleeping bag and grinned, "Better be careful, Malfoy. Might catch some of my mudblood germs."

"Don't call yourself that," Daphne scolded.

"There's always hand sanitizer," Draco replied, at the same time.

 **Hogwarts Castle [March 14** **th** **]**

Ronald Weasley watched from afar as Destiny Lestrange flipped a page idly in her book. He snorted. Knowing who she was, it was probably a book about how to rip someone's heart out and use it for her dark magic rituals. She didn't deserve that red and gold tie hanging around her neck. The fact that the sorting hat had actually placed her in _his_ house was an insult. He couldn't believe they even let her into Hogwarts, let alone into Gryffindor. Her entire family was full of convicted criminals, for Merlin's sake!

His eyes narrowed as he continued to glare at the girl as she read her book by Black Lake. She was sitting against a gnarled tree and looking peaceful as ever. Who did she think she was? His mother had told him all about that girl's Death Eater family. She was a Lestrange, and the daughter of one of the most dangerous people in the wizarding world. She was as dark as it gets, he was sure of it.

Ron frowned as another girl approached Lestrange, a wide smile on her face and another book in her hands. They said something to each other and switched books with a laugh. _What was this? Some Death Eater book club?_

He squinted at the other girl suspiciously. It was that Granger girl. As far as he knew, Granger was a muggleborn. What was she doing hanging around the likes of Lestrange? Didn't all those Death Eater types hate muggleborns? They would surely kill her.

Before he knew what he was doing, his feet propelled him forward and he found himself marching intently towards the two girls, a hostile look etched onto his face. He couldn't let that nasty Lestrange girl hurt someone else.

If he had been slightly more observant, he would've noticed the matching wary expressions on their faces as he approached. He would've noticed the annoyed glances the two girls exchanged as he stood in front of them with a peeved expression.

"Can we help you?" Destiny Lestrange asked, barely glancing up from the page she was intently reading. When he didn't respond, she raised an eyebrow, "Do you plan on answering the question, Weasley? Or do you just enjoy blocking my sun?"

Ron sneered, ripping the book out of her grip. He glanced briefly at the title before tossing it aside into the grass: _The Art of Divination Volume III: The Animal Kingdom_

Well, perhaps she wasn't reading about dark curses at that moment, _but_ she probably saved those evil books for late at night when nobody could catch her.

"Granger, you should stay away from Lestrange," He warned, "I know you're muggleborn and all, but even someone like you should know about the evil family she comes from. They're all Death Eaters!"

Hermione cocked her head to the side, ignoring the underlying jab at her heritage for the moment, "Death Eaters?"

Ronald Weasley rolled his eyes, "Yes, Death Eaters. Try to keep up, Granger. Just because this isn't your muggle world doesn't mean you can just ignore the current events in my world."

She pursed her lips, "And what might _your_ world be?"

He frowned, "The wizarding world, of course. Are you always this slow? Looks like the Ravenclaw standards have gone down a bit."

Before Hermione lost her temper and turned her wand on him, Destiny cut in with a bored drawl, "Why are you here, Weasley? I can assure you, I'm not corrupting Hermione with my supposedly 'evil' influence, so you can run along now. I'm sure you need to return to your job of mopping floors, since any other task is too intellectually rigorous for you," She paused and a cruel smile curled at the corners of her mouth, "After all, you could certainly use the money."

Instantly, Ronald Weasley pulled out his wand, the tips of his ears turning a bright shade of red. His brows furrowed angrily and his nostrils flared, "What did you just say to me, Death Eater?"

Destiny stared at the wand apprehensively. She knew she could curse the living daylights out of Weasley without even flicking her wand. She could send him flying into the line of trees near the lake if she wanted to. There was only one problem and that was her last name.

Potter and his lackeys could cast everything short of the killing curse and get away with it, but that same obvious favoritism did not extend to her. The Headmaster was already suspicious of her and would like nothing more than to expel her for daring to lift her wand against a child of the Order. If she tried to curse or maim the monumental prat, she was sure she'd be kicked out of Hogwarts before even finishing the spell.

Destiny felt like she was walking on eggshells already, despite having done nothing outwardly wrong. If there was any crime happening at Hogwarts, Dumbledore probably thought her surname was enough evidence to place the blame on her. She didn't need to be a Seer to see that.

She blinked, snapping out of her thoughts and becoming suddenly aware Weasley's wand was still trained on her.

He jabbed his wand into her shoulder, digging it into her skin roughly. "What did you just say to me?" He repeated, gritting his teeth, "Who do you think you are?"

 _He wouldn't curse her_ , Destiny thought to herself. Not here, not in broad daylight. He couldn't be that stupid. She closed her eyes and concentrated, seeing if she could possibly determine the outcome of her current predicament before it happened.

"Destiny move–" Hermione screamed.

Destiny realized it was too late to see her future when she felt an unfamiliar spell slice at her shoulder, cutting clean through her jumper and drawing blood in a thin, long line down her arm. Her arm began to sting painfully as the wind bit at the open wound, and she hissed under her breath. She glared at Weasley, who looked awfully smug standing in front of her.

Before she could retaliate however, Weasley was blasted off his feet and slammed into one of the trees nearly fifty feet away from them. He slid down to the ground, clearly unconscious after hitting his head on the rough bark.

Destiny's eyes widened and she whipped her head to the side to see Hermione had already drawn her wand and silently fired off her own curse. Her jaw unhinged in shock at the amount of force behind the spell. It _had_ to have been in one of the books Hadrian had slipped her, for she was sure this kind of dark spell wasn't in the school's curriculum.

"What did you do?" Destiny gasped, running over to where Weasley had fallen into a heap at the base of the tree. She barely registered Hermione following after her, book still in hand. Destiny glanced critically at the scene. There was a bit of blood where he'd hit his head, but judging from the way his chest rose and fell, he was still alive.

"I didn't realize it would be _that_ powerful!" Hermione defended herself, craning her neck over her friend's shoulder to see the damage she had done.

"Hermione, you nearly killed him! You should be lucky he's still alive!"

"He hurt you!" Hermione hissed, "And he fired his spell first. I was just making sure he couldn't continue. You shouldn't have to deal with his petty bullying. He's an arsehole. He deserves this."

Destiny shook her head, "We need to get him to the infirmary. It looks like he broke a rib or something." She glanced around discreetly, "Come on, we have to leave, now. We can't be seen here. I'll send the boys to make sure he gets taken to the Hospital Wing."

Hermione nodded shakily, clutching her book to her chest as she followed Destiny up the hill and towards the castle. They walked through the halls in silence, each of them trying to gather their own thoughts. Destiny led them to the library, where she swore they would find the rest of their group. She was right, per usual, when they spotted the boys and Daphne reading by their usual spot near the lesser-perused shelves.

Destiny whispered frantically to Blaise and Neville who turned and looked at Hermione with matching looks of surprise. Blaise asked her a question, to which Destiny responded, "I don't know, just say you were skipping rocks near the lake and you found him on your way back. Hurry! I'm _not_ getting expelled because of a dead Weasel."

They nodded once and packed up their books, rushing to leave the library.

Hermione fidgeted nervously as Destiny whispered something to Hadrian. They both had a heated conversation as Hermione tried to ignore her surroundings. The two were arguing while Daphne tried her best to act as a mediator between them. Eventually Destiny seemed to win the argument and Hadrian glanced sharply curly haired witch. Hermione immediately stared at her feet to avoid his cold gaze.

 _Blaise and Neville would be halfway to Weasley by now,_ Hermione tried to convince herself. They'd make sure a professor would've found him. The boy, despite being an obnoxious, prejudiced idiot, would be fine.

Slowly, Hadrian rose from his chair and walked over to her with a blank expression on his face. He was about to say something when suddenly Destiny gasped.

"My book," She whispered, "I left my book there when Weasley grabbed it from me. They _know_ it's my book."

"You left physical evidence there?" Hadrian repeated in disbelief, "How could you make such a stupid mistake, Destiny? You could've at least obliviated the Weasel! You know the first rule!"

"Don't get caught." Destiny recited, almost dejectedly. "It all happened so fast, Hadrian. And I'm not as skilled with memory charms as you are! I wasn't expecting–"

"You're a Seer! The words 'I wasn't expecting' should never come out of your mouth!" Hadrian hissed.

"Hadrian, she's a Seer, she's not God. She can't know every single thing," Daphne pointed out, laying a calming hand on his shoulder.

"You can't even get it now, Blaise and Neville have already alerted someone by now and the staff is probably watching the area. How could you leave a bloody book there! And a _library_ book at that? They'll track it back to you in seconds!" Hadrian ran a hand through his hair in frustration.

"Actually," Hermione cleared her throat, "I think it was my book."

Destiny glanced at her with irritation, "Hermione, you're holding your book in your hands."

"No, this is the book you gave to me. We switched because I wanted to read your book and you wanted to read mine, remember?" Hermione spoke timidly, trying to stop her shaking hands, "If anything, it's all my fault."

"You," Hadrian barked, grabbing her arm, "Come with me. We need to have a talk."

* * *

"They're going to question you about it, you know," Hadrian spoke quietly as they walked though the deserted corridors. Though he didn't outright say anything, Hermione could hear the disappointment in his voice. But he didn't seem disappointed that she'd tried a dark curse, but that she hadn't gotten away with it.

She felt tears prick at her eyes, "It was foolish. I don't know why–I just–He hurt Destiny! I felt like I _had_ to hurt him back! And you gave me that book about the dark arts, and so I just wanted to try one tiny spell."

He sighed, "I know that feeling. I bet he was being classic Weasley and sputtering about Destiny's evil family and all that?"

Hermione nodded, "The things he was saying–"

"Half truths, probably." Hadrian shrugged.

"What am I supposed to do now? They know it was me" Hermione gasped, "I didn't know the curse would–"

Hadrian rolled his eyes, "Don't lie to me, you'd never cast a spell without knowing what it was and extensive practice. You knew exactly what would happen." They turned a corner and he smiled, "But that's the exact opposite of what you're going to tell McGonagall or Flitwick."

"What?" She sniffed.

"You're a muggleborn," Hadrian began.

She narrowed her eyes, "Yes, I know. Everyone knows and everyone keeps bringing it up over and over again. I get it muggleborns are–"

"I don't give a shit about your blood status," Hadrian cut her off, "Don't insult my intelligence by even thinking that. What I was trying to say is that the almighty saint-like Hogwarts staff is _still_ prejudiced against muggleborns, even if they don't realize it."

"What do you mean?"

"They think you're ignorant. They think the Wizarding World is superior to the muggle world. They think you don't know anything about their culture and their practices. Even if you might be second in our class, they'll still consider you below them because they think you don't know basic things about the Wizarding World–things you'd only know if you'd grown up in this world," Hadrian pointed out.

"I know what they think," Hermione snapped, "I've spent my entire time at Hogwarts trying to prove them wrong."

"Well," Hadrian raised an eyebrow, "Why not prove them right instead?"

"I'm not following you."

"Tell them what they want to hear. Tell them some witch in Diagon Alley sold a list of spells to you on the street. You, being the clueless muggleborn, were so curious that you decided to read them, not realizing they were dark spells. Tell them you had no idea what it would do to Ronald Weasley. Nothing will convince them more than a lie that supports their ingrained prejudice. I bet you'll walk away without so much as a detention." Hadrian smirked.

"Oh, and don't be afraid to play up the dramatics a bit. You can fake getting a bit teary eyed, much like you are now," He added.

Hermione frowned, "I'm not faking–"

Hadrian snorted, "I told you not to lie to me. I know you're an excellent actress, Hermione. You may be acting so disheartened, but I know you _liked_ that rush of power. That tingle of magic that runs up your spine when you use dark magic," He ghosted his fingers on the back of her neck as he threw an arm around her shoulder, causing her to shiver slightly. "I know you enjoyed that feeling of control. And I know this incident won't stop you from trying it again."

She bit her lip, looking up at him, "How do you know?"

He grinned, "Because I went through the exact same thing," He frowned, "You know, minus the almost killing Weasley and getting caught part."

They turned a corner and Hermione was surprised to be standing outside her Head of House's office. She didn't realize they had walked this far. She looked at Hadrian in question.

"The whole naïve muggleborn act will be so much more believable if you confess yourself," He explained, nudging her towards the door. "You were so overcome with guilt you just had to tell someone how sorry you were," He spoke dramatically.

"Naïve muggleborn act?" She repeated in disbelief.

"Well, we both know you're far more clever than the average wizard. Muggleborn or not, nothing is truly naïve about you, Hermione Granger."

 **Hogsmeade [May 21** **st** **]**

"Why are we practicing outside?" Hadrian grumbled, "Are you forgetting you're still a fugitive?"

"Because," Sirius drawled, "The Shrieking Shack gets stuffy and I have allergy problems," He looked at Hadrian tiredly, "Or maybe some fresh air will help you focus. Don't worry, I already shrouded us with an invisibility charm and we're far enough away from Hogsmeade that nobody comes here. Plus, the added threat of getting caught might help you conjure something more than a wisp of light."

Hadrian frowned, waving his wand as he tried to control the silvery light that floated in front of him, "Wisp? I'd say it's more of a shapeless blob, actually."

He sighed as the "shapeless blob" flickered once and disappeared, "I don't get it. We've been at this for almost four months now. Why can't I conjure a full Patronus? Am I not powerful enough?"

Sirius, who remembered the time he had been under the kid's imperius curse for an entire night, decided that there was not a problem with Hadrian's magical power.

He rubbed his temples, "For the hundredth time, you have to think of a _happy_ memory. And I'm sorry, but receiving a new issue of PlayWitch magazine–even if the witch on the cover is only in her knickers–doesn't count as pure happiness."

Hadrian flushed, "I was just kidding about that!"

"Less talking, more trying." Sirius sang in an overly cheery tone.

Hadrian scrunched up his face in concentration and closed his eyes. He thought about the time he had stolen the Sorcerer's Stone right out from Dumbledore's watchful eyes and his father's shrewd attention. He thought about that feeling of finally getting something for himself and the happiness that came with it.

"Expecto Patronum!" He shouted, waving his wand in the way Sirius had taught him.

He opened his eyes and to his surprise the wisp of light was bigger, certainly, but it had yet to resemble any solid form. It was brighter than any of his previous tries at least. He groaned loudly and threw himself into the grass in frustration.

"It's not working!" He snapped, "Are you sure you're teaching this to me correctly? When we tried it with that dementor you kidnapped last time, I almost died because I couldn't conjure one! I've been trying for the entire term and I haven't been able to conjure anything!""

Sirius leaned against a nearby tree and huffed, "I'm no licensed professional but trust me, I know how to conjure a patronus. Don't take it too personally, this charm is incredibly difficult. Most wizards can't procure one even if they tried their entire life."

"I'm not most wizards, though," Hadrian argued, "I'm the son of the Dark Lord," He paused, and a frown appeared on his forehead, "Do you think that's the reason I'm not able to conjure a full corporeal patronus? Because my soul is too dark or something?"

Sirius snorted, "You're thirteen. Despite your extracurricular activities involving torturing muggles, I've seen wizards much darker than you conjure their own Patronus."

"Then what is it? It's been months of practice. Why can't I create one?"

"It's about the memory you have in mind. The patronus draws it's energy from the emotion behind the memory. It has to be strong," Sirius explained.

Hadrian scowled, "I've tried so many happy memories. I've thought of everything from when I bested my father to when I snogged Greengrass, nothing is working!"

Sirius rolled his eyes, "I understand you're an angsty little blighter, but surely there must be _some_ memory that makes you happy enough?"

Hadrian pursed his lips, "Well, there is _one_. But it was a long time ago."

"Excellent, go with that one."

He bit his lip, faltering in his wand movement. "What if it doesn't work?"

"Then you officially have a unhappy, joy-free life and you'll get eaten by dementors if you are unfortunate enough to ever encounter one," Sirius snarked, "Now quit whining and try it again!"

Hadrian closed his eyes again, moving his wand in the correct circular formation. He thought all the way back to the time he was seven years old and was still living at the Dursley house. He had been shoved in cupboards and was treated worse than a slave. It was one of the worst times of his life–at least until Tom Riddle, otherwise known as the Dark Lord swooped in and rescued him from the hell he was trapped in.

"Expecto Patronum!" He shouted, screwing his eyes shut.

Lord Voldemort had taken _him_ , some abandoned child that nobody else had cared about, under his wing and turned him into his heir. He was the heir of the most powerful man in the Wizarding World, all because the Dark Lord had decided to take pity on him one day all those years ago. He was no longer some scraggily child left to the mercy of muggles who wanted nothing more than to get rid of him.

Ironically, the Dark Lord had given him another chance at life, instead of killing him in cold blood. Even his biological parents hadn't believed in him, writing him off in favor of his ridiculous inept twin brother. But Tom Riddle had seen past his faults and discovered the hidden potential. The Dark Lord had made him who he was today.

"Hadrian, open your eyes."

He reluctantly listened to Sirius, cracking open one eye slowly, then the other. He almost dropped his wand in shock. The wisp of bright light he had grown accustomed to over the months had turned into a full fledged Patronus, shaped exactly like–

"I always knew you were a Gryffindor at heart," Sirius guffawed, staring at the impressive translucent lion as it pawed at the ground.

Hadrian stared at his patronus in awe as it sauntered around. It was sheathed in an almost blinding white light as it occasionally yawned and opened its jaws wide enough to reveal sharp teeth. It sniffed the flowers near the base of a tree and sneezed, involuntarily shaking its striking mane in the process.

Eventually his patronus faded into the crisp spring air, but Hadrian was still frozen in shock. He couldn't believe he had actually done it, after all these months! He was half convinced he physically couldn't conjure one.

"Why is it a lion, though?" Hadrian complained, "I thought it would be a snake, or a wolf, or something a bit–"

"Darker?" Sirius offered.

Hadrian shrugged, "Well, yes."

"Historically, patronuses are supposed to reflect the caster's personality. Lions are seen as prideful, protective, charismatic, and good leaders," Sirius squinted at him, "I don't see it though."

"Very funny," Hadrian crossed his arms, trying to ignore Black's laughter.

Sirius smiled, "Now, let's practice it again."

* * *

After Hadrian had left the clearing and made his way back up to the castle, Sirius took the dillusionement charm down around the area. They always departed their meeting place separately, for fear of being seen together. Regardless of how much he enjoyed their lessons, he couldn't afford to damage Hadrian's reputation. The fear of punishment from the Dark Lord if they ever got caught was enough for him to constantly look over his shoulder in paranoia.

He began to walk towards the closest apparition point, all the while being consumed by his thoughts.

Since the raid on Christmas Day, he hadn't quite forgiven Hadrian for his actions quite yet, but he was slowly beginning to understand why the kid had used an unforgivable on him. Even he could admit that the Dark Lord probably would've killed him on the spot if he didn't go through his task that night, imperiused or not. Hadrian had done him a favor–which ended up costing him more than Sirius had thought. By ensuring Sirius would complete his task, Hadrian had suffered a brutal punishment at his father's hands. Hell, everyone could hear the boy's screams that night in Malfoy Manor.

Sirius didn't sleep for days after that.

He didn't know what to do about his godson.

Technically, since James Potter had declared him the godfather of his son, Harry Potter, that meant he was still the godfather of Hadrian, even though everything had changed about him. He supposed he still referred to Hadrian as his godson sometimes. He was sure he could be a better guardian than Lord Voldemort, at least.

As he got closer to the apparition point near the center of the village, he noticed the amount of people getting thinner and thinner. He frowned. That was strange; usually Hogsmeade was bursting with activity.

Sirius heard the sound of multiple footsteps and he ducked behind a nearby building. He heard a couple voices speaking to each other and so he peered over his side to see who it was. His eyes widened when he saw the group of uniformed Aurors swarming the streets, each holding his face on a wanted poster. _Shit_.

Before he could panic, he cast a dillusionement charm over himself. It wouldn't last very long, but hopefully it would buy him enough time to sneak out of their view. He took a deep breath.

As fast as he could, he edged past the crowd of Aurors, hiding behind buildings and trees when any Auror looked in his general direction. He almost made it to the Shrieking Shack before he noticed his body start to reappear in view of the Aurors. He cursed under his breath before breaking out into a sprint. If he could make it to the Shrieking Shack, he could erect a ward to buy himself even more time to figure out how to get away safely.

"There! I see him!"

Sirius faltered in his steps as an Auror spotted him. He ran to the Shack, fiddling with the padlocked door and trying to get it open in time. He glanced over his shoulder to see the quickly approaching Aurors and his attempts got even more frantic.

A spell fired over his head and he ducked, letting the spell collide into the door. He kicked the door, hoping it would fall down with at least brute force, but to no avail. He heard someone shout another spell, but before he could dodge it, the spell collided into his shoulder.

Sirius groaned clutching his shoulder in pain. He wasn't sure what spell it was but it caused his veins to burn like fire, travelling down his arm at a rapid pace. He could barely lift his wand arm up anymore, and he sagged against the door.

Just when he was about to give up and prepare for a lifelong sentence in Azkaban, he felt a hand grab his cloak and pull him towards the wall. A voice whispered an incantation and suddenly he was pulled _through_ the wall.

Sirius felt his mouth drop open in shock when he saw who had pulled him inside, "Moony, is that you?"

Remus Lupin smiled wryly, "It's good to see you too, Padfoot."


	10. Loyalty

**A/N: This is the final chapter of third year! Can't believe we've made it this far! To be honest, I wasn't quite happy with how this chapter turned out (3** **rd** **year is my least favorite in canon), but hey, at least it's on time! Updates are still regular, and I'm posting as fast as I can write! Just a hint, The Goblet of Fire was my favorite book in the series, so in this universe the fic will start getting more intense starting fourth year. I hope you're as excited as I am!**

 **Hogsmeade [May 21** **st** **]**

James Potter crouched on the ground, observing the footsteps in the mud. It was difficult to make out direction the fugitive was running solely from the prints, since it looked rather chaotic–as if he'd been running in several different directions.

His frown grew more severe as he rose, observing the long stretch of empty land on the border of Hogsmeade. There was nothing here for miles. And yet, as he glanced back at the patch of mud imprinted with footprints, he was positive there were two distinct sets of prints. One set looked like it definitely belonged to the Sirius Black he knew–or at least, used to know, James corrected himself. The other set of footprints was considerably smaller, and seemed a bit odd at the scene.

What could Sirius Black be up to here? There was nothing visibly threatening this far away from Hogsmeade. And who was the person with him?

James was deep in thought as he considered the possibilities. He could've caught that bastard, _and_ his accomplice. If only he hadn't received the notification that Black was spotted in Hogsmeade too late, he could've been there to hunt the criminal down himself. He sighed, walking away from the scene to where his second-in-command, Anthony, stood speaking to their team of Aurors.

"We've concluded that Sirius Black was indeed here prior to his attempt to escape through Hogsmeade, but we've also discovered something rather alarming. Black was not alone. There is another set of footprints aside from his own," Anthony was saying, "We have yet to decipher who those other set of prints belong to."

"Could it be an accomplice of his?" One of his men suggested, crossing his arms across his chest, "He broke out of Azkaban last summer, surely he couldn't do it alone."

"If he's a suspected member of the dark, then perhaps he was with a Death Eater?" somebody else pointed out.

James shook his head slowly, quickly identifying who had spoken, "I don't think so, Nolan. For one, Sirius Black is a known fugitive, probably a greater threat than any other Death Eater. Second, as much as I like to believe otherwise, Black isn't stupid. He knows how dangerous it is for him to step outside of whatever hovel he's been hiding at. Why would he come out all the way here, in the middle of nowhere Hogsmeade, just to meet up with a fellow Death Eater? Not to mention, in broad daylight."

"Pretty risky of him," Anthony whistled, "No wonder he was in Gryffindor. Man's got guts, I'll give him that."

James scowled, "Don't disgrace the Gryffindor house by associating it with anything to do with that traitor."

Anthony shrugged, "Sorry, Sir. I just meant to say he was reckless like I heard all Gryffindors were…" He trailed off, cowering slightly under the irritated glare James bestowed upon him. "What do I know, I was home-schooled," He muttered under his breath.

"Maybe he's onto something," Jackson, another one of the higher-ranked Aurors, called out, "Not about the Gryffindor thing, but about Hogwarts itself. Maybe Black was trying to get into Hogwarts again."

Nolan frowned, "I doubt it. This is literally the middle of nowhere. If Sirius Black was trying to get into Hogwarts, I doubt he would've come out here. He'd want to get to a location closer to the school to avoid getting caught. It seemed like Black just wanted a private location, somewhere he knew he wouldn't be disturbed. Perhaps he just needed a secluded area to meet with his accomplice?"

"But why Hogsmeade?" Someone asked, "It's mostly shops and vendors. Nobody lives out here unless they need to be near Hogwarts for some reason."

"Maybe his accomplice is in Hogwarts," Anthony snorted, "I wouldn't put it past him to imperious a little first year into doing his bidding for him."

"Don't be ridiculous, Anthony," Nolan scowled. He cocked his head to the side as a thought came over him, "It's someone in Hogwarts, but I don't think it's a student."

"You think it's a professor that's been collaborating with him on his nefarious agenda?"

James' eyes widened suddenly. "Not just any professor," He growled, "I know exactly who it is."

* * *

"So, Remus Lupin." Sirius remarked casually, throwing himself onto the aged armchair in the Shrieking Shack, "It's been years."

He dusted off the cobwebs that clung to his perfectly tailored clothing. The second his old friend had pulled him into the Shrieking Shack, they'd hidden out in the secret passageway until after the Aurors had torn everything apart looking for him inside the run down house. As soon as the Aurors had left dejectedly, the two of them emerged from their hiding place. He would've been panicked, but Remus assured him there was a way out of his current situation.

" _Not to be crass, but the Aurors are kind of after me," Sirius had whispered, trying to to keep quiet as they heard footsteps tear apart the Shrieking Shack looking for him._

" _We can use the floo in my office to get you out, don't worry about it," Remus had waved his hand, unconcerned with the matter._

"Sirius Black," Remus mocked, leaning his arm against the fireplace, "And here I was afraid I'd never see you again. Without me saving your ass like always, I figured you'd get yourself killed."

"Sorry to disappoint you, Moony," The black haired man grinned, stretching out his arms, "But here I am."

"I've missed you," Remus admitted, "The past few years just haven't been the same without your idiotic decisions and snarky justifications."

Sirius bit his lip and glanced out the window, or at least where the window had once been. Now it was covered up with wooden boards nailed to the wall. He took a deep breath, trying to control his tumultuous emotions at his friend's words. It didn't work and before he could stop himself, he blurted out, "Why didn't you try to help me, Remus?"

Remus shook his head vehemently, "Of course I tried to help you! But the Ministry wasn't even willing to give you a proper trial, let alone hear a word of what I had to say. And it certainly didn't help matters when it was revealed that Dumbledore believed you were guilty as well."

Sirius narrowed his eyes, "I'm beginning to hate that old coot." He propped his feet on the rickety coffee, glancing up at his friend curiously, "And then what happened? You just stopped trying to help me?"

Remus looked uncomfortable under his friend's heated gaze and he did his best to avoid those dark, angry eyes.

"Answer me!"

"I tried my best, Sirius," Remus began meekly, "I tried everything in my powers to release you. But after all my efforts kept getting shot down, I couldn't keep going on like that. I had to stop eventually. I told myself you were strong, that you could get through this."

"It was a life sentence, Remus," Sirius rolled his eyes, "The only way I could get through it was if I died."

"I thought one day your charges might be cleared and you could join us again, as a free man," Remus defended himself, "I couldn't just break you out of Azkaban myself. That's against the law, you know!"

Sirius felt a quiver of anger roll down his spine, "Yes, and throwing me in Azkaban without a trial was certainly in line with the law. I thought our friendship meant more to you than the Ministry's bloody laws, Lupin. If our positions had been reversed, I wouldn't have let you stay in that prison for even a day, you know."

"Don't do this, Sirius," Remus pleaded, "You're asking me to break the law for you. I'm not like you, I follow the rules and I could never disobey them. You don't know the position I was in. You don't know if you would've done anything differently had you been in my place."

"I waited, you know." Sirius whispered, "I waited everyday for someone to come tell me my name was cleared and I was free to go. I waited for one of my lifelong friends to come save me from my hell. Do you even know what I had to go through?" He seethed.

Remus shook his head sadly, "I can't even imagine, Sirius."

His friend scoffed, "Of course you can't imagine it. Azkaban is worse than hell, Remus. It's full of power-hungry wardens just dying to see your blood spilled across the floor. They'll beat you and they'll torture you and they'll starve you, just for their own amusement. They'll keep you in total darkness so you can't tell when the night bleeds into the morning and when the sun comes up. Time stands still in that prison." His voice broke slightly as he added, "And if they kill you, it doesn't matter to them. They never even considered you a human in the first place."

"I'm sorry!" Remus shouted, his eyes watering slightly, "I know I should've tried harder to clear your name. I know I should've broken you out of there myself if it had come down to it! I'm sorry, Sirius!"

"Sorry doesn't fix things anymore!" Sirius roared, jumping up from his armchair, his eyes blazing with an unfathomable amount of anger, "It's not like when we were in school and I had to serve detention with you, Remus! I had to spend _years_ in Azkaban!"

"What do you want me to do, Sirius?" Remus asked tiredly, rubbing his eyes with his hand. "Write you a letter? Bake you some apology cookies? Throw myself into Azkaban?"

Sirius sighed, returning back to his seat, "I just want to know why now. Why did you choose to help me now of all times? I broke out of Azkaban with the breakout caused by those Death Eaters last summer. Why did you wait almost a year without trying to even contact me?" He paused and reached for his wand, "Are you setting me up?"

"Setting you up? What?" Remus sputtered, "I'm trying to help you, you blasted idiot! Why would I save you from the Aurors, only to send you into a trap?"

Sirius relaxed slightly and explained, "When I went to see James a couple months ago, he pretended to forgive me, to help me, and promised we were friends again. And then he called the Aurors on me. It's a long story," Sirius shrugged nonchalantly, "but it's left me with a few trust issues, as you can see."

"I didn't know James did that. I didn't know he was even _capable_ of doing something like that," His friend grimaced, "And to answer your question, I only waited this long because I didn't know where you were and I didn't want to risk seeking you out, in case of accidentally outing your hiding spot. I'm here to help you, not set you up."

Sirius raised an eyebrow, "So you're not afraid of helping someone who supposedly murdered a dozen muggles and spent most of the past decade in Azkaban?"

"Hm," Lupin thought aloud, "I suppose I might be afraid, if I actually thought you'd committed the crimes you've been accused of. But since I don't believe you could've done something so inhumane, I'm going to have to stick with my resolution to help you."

Sirius snapped his eyes up to meet his friend. "You believe me?" He asked cautiously, "You don't think I did it?"

"Of course you didn't do it. You would never join the Dark. It's just not the kind of person you are, Padfoot," Remus grinned, "Anyone who believes you're a Death Eater is a fool."

Sirius smiled back, trying to hide the emotion in his eyes. Everyone from his past, except Lily, had turned their backs on him. They had believed the worst in him, despite knowing him for decades. But now somebody believed him. Somebody saw the truth in his words. His best friend actually trusted him. The feeling was indescribable.

He casually brushed his gaze over his left forearm, which was covered by the full-sleeved robes he had taken to wearing recently. He felt the dark mark itch furiously against his skin the second he glanced at it. Remus believed he wasn't a Death Eater. Sirius didn't even want to be a Death Eater, but now the mark on his arm proved otherwise. Technically, he only joined the Dark because they had saved him from Azkaban, and he believed all his other friends and family had abandoned him. The dark mark was a constant reminder of where his current loyalty lied, and he wasn't sure how to explain his situation to Remus. The less his friend knew the better, at least until he found a way out of it.

He realized he'd been silent for a long time and so he asked, "What are you doing in Hogsmeade anyways?"

Remus Lupin nudged his head towards the flicker of dark night that peeked out from the nailed wooden boards over the window, "It's a full moon tonight."

Sirius froze, "Why haven't you chained yourself up? You haven't sealed any of the doors! I know it's been a while since we did this last back in seventh year, but don't you have to make sure certain precautions are in place before you turn?"

Lupin smiled, "It's been years since we've been in school, old friend. I have better control over my transformation now. I still have to turn, but I can willingly turn at any time in the night."

Sirius winced, "Does it still hurt to turn?"

Remus raised an eyebrow, "Considering I have to break every bone in my body and sprout fur and claws to turn into a werewolf, yes it still hurts to turn. But it's gotten better since I've gotten used to the pain over the years."

"Are you still taking your wolfsbane?" Sirius demanded to know.

"Yes, mother," His friend rolled his eyes, "Once a day, every day. But you'll never guess who's been brewing it for me: Severus Snape."

"Snivellus?" Sirius wrinkled his nose, "You sure he's not purposefully botching it up and making the potion toxic?"

"No, Sirius. Snape is even more skilled with brewing potions than he was when we were in school. He hasn't 'botched it up' yet." Remus smiled, missing his friend's immaturity.

"If you say so," Sirius yawned, getting up and stretching his arms over his head, "So do you want me to stun you if you get out of control again, like back in the good old days?"

Remus frowned, his sharp eyes catching the smudge of black on his friend's arm that peeked out of his sleeve as he stretched. He kept his voice light as he asked jokingly, "Did you get a tattoo while you were in prison? Does it say 'Mum'?"

Sirius stilled for a second, slowly lowering his hands back down and forcing a smile, "As if I'd want to get Walburgha's memory anywhere near me."

"What is it then? Can I see it?" Remus asked politely, his hand curling in his pocket.

Sirius shook his head, "It's still a bit sore, mate. I'll show it to you another time."

Remus furrowed his brows, "Oh come now, it can't hurt that badly. Let me see it."

Sirius leveled his gaze at his friend, "And I said I'll show it to you another time."

Remus felt his features harden, "I want to see it now, Sirius."

Sirius gritted his teeth together, "No."

In a split second, Remus lunged towards his friend and pushed his sleeve up in one fluid motion, catching the black haired man by surprise.

And there it was. The Dark Mark stood out starkly against the pale skin of his best friend's left forearm. The black poison seeped into his veins; scarring the skin tissue and making his entire arm look ugly and grotesque. Remus dropped the hideous limb with disgust.

"You lied," He said quietly, point an accusing finger at his friend–well, former friend.

Sirius turned pale and he began to stammer, "No, it's not what you think–"

"You lied to me," Lupin cut him off, feeling his temper flare as he stared harder at the dark mark burned into his friend's arm.

"Moony, I swear, please just listen to me–"

"I believed you," Lupin whispered to himself, "Everyone told me not to trust you, they told me you were a criminal. I thought you could never do something like this. You're exactly as evil as they made you out to be, Sirius Black."

"Just listen to me, Remus," Sirius began, holding his hands up in a defensive manner. He backed away slowly as he noticed the angry trance his best friend seemed to be in. "Hear me out, I swear I didn't betray you!"

"Liar!" Remus roared. He was seething now, his shoulders moving up and down in an angry manner, "You're a Death Eater!" He kicked the coffee table violently and it collapsed into a pile of shambles, "That's all you are to me now."

Sirius felt his eyes widen as Remus grunted once, hunching his shoulders and then he let out a deep snarling noise. Lupin's head seemed to lengthen and his jacket ripped away to reveal a smattering of dark fur sprouting over his skin. To his utmost horror, Remus seemed to be transforming right in front of him.

An odd thought wormed its way into his mind as he continued backing away until he stepped into the secret passageway: Remus was on wolfsbane. That meant he was perfectly capable of thinking like a human and he was aware of his actions. Remus _wanted_ to turn at that moment. It meant his old friend _wanted_ to kill him.

Sirius began to run, then. For his life, for his sanity, or maybe even both. He looked over his shoulder and ever so often, trying to determine how much time he had to escape. He stumbled slightly in his steps as he heard a loud growl echo throughout the passageway. He supposed now would be a good time to ask for help from the one person he trusted in this wretched situation he had gotten himself into.

* * *

"Honestly Granger, it's not even that scary. Just give it a try," Blaise pleaded, "I'll help you if you want!"

"Absolutely not," Hermione shook her head, as if to emphasize her point, "And frankly speaking, I don't think any of you should be doing this either. It could kill you!"

"Don't be such a wet blanket, Granger," Draco Malfoy rolled his eyes, "Everyone does it at least once in their life."

"Even trying it once is capable of killing you, Malfoy!"

Hadrian wearily glanced at the arguing trio, letting out a quiet yawn. It was almost an hour after curfew, and instead of taking this time to relax like he had planned, he was stuck watching his friends bicker like toddlers outside. He wished he'd thought to at least bring a book, or even a pillow.

It wouldn't have been that horrible, had any of his other friends decided to keep him company. But his dear sister had already foreseen this argument, and didn't even bother showing up. She'd clearly also informed Neville of the mind-numbing headache those three would cause him, because he wasn't present either.

Daphne had at least made an effort. She'd smiled as she walked with him, hand in hand, seeming pretty excited for their curfew rebellion. But then she had taken one look at the petty argument Draco, Hermione, and Blaise had started and she turned around on the spot, citing the need to go finish up a paper for her Muggle Studies class. Daphne didn't even _take_ Muggle Studies.

So now he was stuck outside–alone–with only the three biggest morons he had encountered in all his existence to keep him company. They were still snapping at each other, their eyes wide with anger and shoulders coiled with unease.

Hadrian rubbed his forehead in annoyance. "Can you lot just _shut_ _up_?" He finally snapped. The three of them turned his way immediately, frowns permanently plastered on their faces.

They all had mirroring expressions of shock and indignation, which he would've found hilarious in normal circumstances, but at the moment Hadrian was just relieved he had gotten them to stop talking.

Unfortunately for his sanity, the silence only lasted for about half a minute.

"Hadrian they're trying to make me play quidditch with them! And they _know_ I'm afraid of heights!" Hermione cried out, pointing an accusing finger at the two boys on either side of her, "Oh, blast it all! I knew you were lying when you said we were breaking curfew to study for Astronomy, Blaise! You don't study for anything! I'm still not convinced you even attend half your classes!"

"Oh, come on," Blaise rolled his eyes, "Don't be a baby, love. Quidditch is the only _decent_ sport in the Wizarding World. You have to learn how to play eventually." He turned and looked to Draco for support, "Don't you agree?"

Draco, who was levitating on his newly polished broom, smirked, "She's never going to fit into our world if she keeps rejecting quidditch. _Everyone_ loves quidditch. Hating quidditch would be like hating the air you breathe."

"For your information, Malfoy, " Hermione began, wrinkling her nose in distaste, "Plenty of people dislike quidditch. Why, there's Amy in Hufflepuff, that uptight Weasley, one of my friends in Ravenclaw–"

Before she could finish what was sure to be a long list of names, she gasped as she was hauled off her feet and into the air. Hermione froze in shock as Draco Malfoy pulled her onto his broom and shot up in the air, spiraling through the sky. She shrieked, digging her nails into his shoulder and holding on for her dear life.

She felt like her heart was about to fall through her chest in fear. Hermione closed her eyes tightly, wishing it would be over soon. Her ears popped in the high altitude, and she held onto Malfoy tighter. She gritted her teeth as she realized the wanker was actually enjoying her fear, and he was laughing at her.

When Malfoy finally landed back onto the ground, Hermione stumbled away from him immediately. She felt like she was about to dry heave and she tried her best to steady her terrified breathing.

"See, now that wasn't so bad, was it Granger?" Malfoy drawled, wearing an incredibly cocky expression.

Hermione craned her neck to look at him for a slight second. Then, before anyone could stop her, she planted her fist firmly into Malfoy's face. She felt satisfied as she heard a sickening crunch, and she stepped away from him to admire her handiwork.

"See, now that wasn't so bad, was it, Malfoy?" She mocked him, looking immensely proud at her actions.

Draco Malfoy clutched at his bleeding nose, groaning and muttering expletives rather loudly.

Hadrian watched in muted shock, his lips curving up into an involuntary smirk. If he was honest, Draco definitely had it coming. His best friend had pushed the muggleborn's buttons too many times, and frankly he was surprised she hadn't snapped earlier.

"Holy shit," Blaise breathed, "She _fucking_ punched you in the _fucking_ face! I can't believe this actually happened!" He laughed, tossing his head back with wild abandon. He grabbed both sides of Hermione's face and stared at her with wide eyes full of admiration, "I can't believe you did that!" He kissed her soundly on the lips, "I love you so much! I'm never letting you go!"

Hermione scowled, pushing the flirtatious black-haired boy away from her. She wiped her lips, "Blaise, ew. That was not necessary!"

Draco hatefully glared at the two of them, "I am going to kill you both!"

Before Hadrian could step in between them and neutralize the situation, a flicker of silvery light appeared in front of him. He blinked in confusion as it quickly materialized into the shape of a rather large dog, and he realized it was a patronus.

Hadrian almost fell backwards in shock when the dog began to speak, and Sirius Black's voice came out.

"Hadrian! I'm in a bit of a dilemma here, kiddo. I never left Hogsmeade because the Aurors were after me, so I had to hide out for a while. R–Remus Lupin–I think he's your defense professor this year–he tried to help me. But then Remus got mad about…something… and now he's in the middle of his transformation–he's a werewolf, by the way–and he's coming after me. I ran towards the forbidden forest, but I need your help to get the hell out of here. If you can hurry, that would be fantastic."

Hadrian blinked, staring at the spot the large dog–obviously a patronus– had been before it disappeared. He took a deep breath, trying to process the information that had just been hurled at him.

 _1\. Sirius had never left Hogsmeade_

 _2\. The Aurors are after Sirius_

 _3\. Remus Lupin is trying to kill Sirius_

 _4\. Everyone is after Sirius because Sirius is trying to get himself killed, that bloody bastard!_

Hadrian let out a loud groan, rubbing his temples in frustration. He turned to Hermione who had a very inquisitive look on her face–

"Why are you associating with the fugitive, Sirius Black?" She demanded to know, her eyes filled with suspicion and a hint of fear. She glanced at Blaise and Draco, who were oddly silent and avoiding her accusing look by staring at the ground, "Why are you two not reacting? Did you know Hadrian was consorting with the enemy?"

"Look, I'll explain everything later, Hermione. But Sirius Black is not the enemy," Hadrian sighed. He smiled weakly, "He's my godfather."

"B-But he escaped from Azkaban!" Hermione hissed, "How can he be–"

"Later," Hadrian stressed, giving her a meaningful look. "I need you to trust me, Hermione, can you do that? You know I'd never do anything to hurt you in any way."

Hermione rolled her eyes, "I know that, Riddle. But I'm more worried about you. You can't possibly be thinking about going into that wretched forest and trying to help him! Why can't we just call the Aurors? What if the criminal–I mean–what if he attacks you?"

"He's not going to attack me," Hadrian snorted, "I'll be fine. I just need you to get back to your dorm. You can't be associated with this, all right? You need to go back."

"What, just because I'm a girl, that means I can't help? I'm coming too! You lot are inevitably going to do something stupid, and I can't just leave you to die," Hermione sniffed haughtily, crossing her arms across her chest as if to cement her position on the matter.

"We're going in the forbidden forest, Granger. It's not exactly forbidden because of its rainbow gumdrops and fairy floss trees. There's all sorts of hideous creatures in there," Draco snapped, looking down at her over his bloodstained nose.

"There can't be any creature more hideous than you!" Hermione replied cheerily, beginning to walk ahead of the trio of boys. She turned back to them with a challenging smile when she noticed they weren't following her, "Well, aren't you coming?"

* * *

"Quit shoving each other," Hermione muttered, struggling to walk her polished black flats. She was really starting to regret her decision to tag along. The dark forest was covered in gnarled roots above the ground and grimy patches of moss, making it extremely hard to remain flat-footed. The two boys on either side kept pushing each other in an attempt to make the other fall, which certainly didn't do any favors for her already unstable balance.

"Come on, Hermione, you're the one who wanted to come with us!" Blaise complained, narrowly avoiding what looked like a puddle of simmering, scathing liquid on the ground, "Just because we're on a suicide mission doesn't mean we can't have a little fun."

"Ssh," Hadrian hissed from ahead of them, muttering a simple locating spell, "We aren't trying to alert the entirety of Hogwarts that Sirius Black is trapped in the confines of the Forbidden Forest. Can you all stop being so skittish for just a minute?"

"Exactly," Blaise whispered as he shoved at Draco, trying to make him topple into the dirt, "We're only trying to save a homicidal maniac from another homicidal maniac. Only the latter homicidal maniac is also a werewolf. There's absolutely no reason to panic."

"I sense sarcasm," Draco muttered, reaching around Hermione to push his friend back.

"I said stop it! I could fall!" Hermione scolded, wrapping her cloak even more tightly around her.

"Sorry, Mother," Blaise drawled out, sounding anything but.

"I'd consider it fair revenge if you fell into a pile of centaur dung right now," Draco snarked, "After all, you did try to break my nose."

Before Hermione could respond, Hadrian let out a sound of triumph. He stood up from where he was crouched on the forest floor and tucked his wand back into his robes. "I think I found Sirius," He announced, already moving towards the direction his wand had pointed at.

"We have to be careful," Hermione warned to his retreating figure, "Black may not hurt you, but he is being chased by a werewolf. We need to tread with caution and–"

She let out a shriek as she was pushed to down towards the forest floor. She tried to steady herself by grabbing Blaise's arm, but she tripped over some roots and ended up pulling him down too. Hermione groaned, pushing herself off the slightly moist forest floor with her hands.

"Malfoy I'm going to strangle you with my bare hands!" Hermione growled, somehow getting herself back up into a standing position.

Malfoy darted his eyes to her mud covered hands with unease, "Don't come near me, Granger. Blaise, just tell her I meant to push you instead! Get away from me Granger!"

Blaise frowned, trying to get up from where Hermione had toppled into him. He muffled a loud cry with his hand as he felt a piercing pain shoot up his ankle. He stared at his two friends as they continued to bicker, and he cleared his throat, "I think I broke my ankle."

They both turned and looked at him simultaneously with looks of matching incredulity.

"Blaise this isn't funny," Hermione rolled her eyes. He could barely see her, even in the light the full moon provided.

"Oi mate, now is not the time to be dramatic," Draco added with a huff.

"I'm not kidding! It hurts! I can't move!"

Hermione's features softened slightly and morphed into an expression of mild concern, "Blaise, I'm so sorry! Are you okay?"

"No, Hermione," He gritted his teeth, "I am _not_ okay, I think I might've broken my ankle, in case you didn't hear me the first time!"

Draco groaned, "Well, just fix it Granger. You always like to prove you're the smartest witch in our year, don't you? Here's your chance."

Hermione crouched down beside Blaise, "I know the spell, but I've never actually casted it! What if I hurt him even more?" She glanced up at the blond hovering above them, "We should get Hadrian to do it."

Draco glanced over at where Hadrian was standing and he frowned. Squinting his eyes, he walked towards the spot Hadrian _had_ been. "He's gone!" Draco exclaimed.

Hermione exchanged a look with Blaise; "You don't think he would've gone to save Black by himself, do you?"

Blaise winced, "I think that's exactly what he did."

Hermione then muttered a string of expletives that even surprised Blaise. She pushed a fluff of hair out of her eyes viciously and stood up, pointing a finger at the general direction she thought Malfoy was standing at, "Malfoy, you stay with Blaise, and I'll go after Hadrian."

Draco snorted at her words, "Absolutely not, Granger. You can't go off wandering alone in this forest, you'd get eaten by a Acromantula or something," He began to walk off in the direction Hadrian had gone and called out, " _I'll_ go after Hadrian, and _you_ stay with Blaise. Try to get out of the forest if you can."

Hermione didn't bother arguing, knowing the insufferable git was already long gone. She turned back to Blaise and shrugged, "See, Blaise. I told you that you'd eventually do something stupid and need my help."

"Yes, yes," Blaise waved his hand dismissively, "You're my knight in shining armor and all that rot. Can you just help me up, now?"

* * *

Sirius Black was running. He was running faster than he think he had run in his entire life. His lungs felt like they were on fire, and his legs were about to collapse at any moment. The _only_ thing that kept him running was the thudding sound of his werewolf friend chasing after him. Lupin wouldn't lose energy in his werewolf form, which meant if he stopped for any reason, his former friend would tear him apart, literally.

If he stopped for a minute, then he'd have time to think about the current situation he was in. If he stopped, he'd have enough time to fully realize his former best friend was trying to murder him. Since Remus was on wolfsbane, it was completely intentional.

His friend wanted him to die.

So Sirius kept running. He didn't want the time to ponder this realization. He didn't want the time to wallow in more thoughts filled with misery. He didn't want to stop running, because then he'd have to face reality.

Unfortunately, as fate would have it, eventually his sprint grew slower and his breathing became heavy. He could barely think, let alone run any longer. He heard the sounds of the werewolf approaching and he leaned against a nearby tree trunk, breathing so hard he could hear the blood as it rushed past his ears.

He swallowed in fear as the werewolf form of his former friend approached him, quietly appraising him from a distance. He was sure he was bruised and bloodied at this point, after stumbling across half the forest and getting slapped by branches and tripping over rocks and tree roots. He was drenched in a thick layer of sweat, but yet he had no stamina to help him run any further.

Sirius Black closed his eyes as the werewolf approached him. It prowled across the short distance between them in a few quick strides and Sirius braced himself for the impact as the werewolf pounced.

When he wasn't automatically torn to shreds, Sirius let out a sigh of relief. His relief soon turned to confusion and he cracked open one eye, terrified to see what was happening. To his shock, the werewolf had been frozen in place by a spell, of sorts. Sirius quickly took the opportunity to duck out from where he was leaning against the tree and nearly stumbled at the sight.

Hadrian Riddle was casting a bright blue spell on his former friend, forcing the werewolf to be immobilized. The boy had an angry look on his face as he glanced over at Sirius.

"How the hell did this happen, Sirius?" Hadrian Riddle yelled out, his voice laden with fury, "How in Merlin's name did you get a damn werewolf to chase after you!"

"It's not like I ask for these things to happen to me," Sirius wheezed, doubling over and panting. He could barely even catch his breath.

"Crucio." Hadrian Riddle hissed, all of a sudden.

Sirius watched in slow horror as Hadrian turned his wand on the werewolf. The creature cried out in unmistakable pain, but Hadrian seemed immune to it. His eyes grew colder as he stepped closer, doubling the intensity of his curse with each step. Hadrian began to cast some other spell that Sirius wasn't familiar with, but he watched as the unfamiliar spell caused the werewolf to growl in agony, causing it to twitch and snarl in jerking movements.

"Stop it, you're hurting him!" Sirius finally said, after he had caught his breath. "Don't torture him."

Hadrian barely glanced up from his task, "He needs to die, Sirius. We can't compromise your position. And he knows who I am now. Remus Lupin has to die."

Sirius felt his blood run cold, "You can't kill him!"

Hadrian smirked, "That's the thing, Sirius. I _need_ to kill him. Lupin has seen too much. He knows too much. He needs to be disposed of."

He turned his gaze back to the creature and frowned, kicking it in the side viciously, "Besides, why do you even care about this hideous thing? He tried to kill you just seconds ago, Sirius."

"He's my friend. He might not believe in me, but I still believe in him. You can't hurt him Hadrian," Sirius was pleading now, locking eyes with the golden–eyed werewolf. It was nearly covered in blood from the strange array of spells Hadrian had cursed it with. If Remus wasn't dead, he was definitely close.

"Is that why you think I should I let him live, Sirius? Because he's your _friend_ ," Hadrian mocked, "You think I should do you a favor when you've betrayed me at every turn? Everyone has turned his or her back on you _but_ me, Sirius. Open your eyes!"

Sirius swallowed hard, unwilling to admit the truth.

"They hate you for something you never did! They didn't even care to learn the truth. They sat there in their mansions and drank champagne while you rotted away in Azkaban. _I_ was the one who saved you. _I_ was the one who helped you. And how do you repay me, Sirius?" Hadrian smiled in a cruel rendition of kindness.

He hurled another curse at the werewolf, watching witch satisfaction as the creature cashed to the forest floor in a loud thud. It writhed against the forest floor in pain, and Sirius averted his eyes.

"You took the first chance you had to go back to Potter," Hadrian spat, "That man abandoned me when I was a child, and you ran back to him like he was some kind of Savior. I told you my secret and you blabbed to my mother, his _wife_ , the second you met her. And when Potter turned you down," Hadrian shook his head, "You were still unwilling to accept that we were the only side that would take you. I had to suffer a punishment from my father because of _you_ , Sirius. He tortured me and humiliated me like I was some sort of toddler who didn't finish his homework. Why?" Hadrian paused.

"Because of me," Sirius whispered.

"Because of you," Hadrian agreed, "And still, I trusted you. You were the only person I welcomed from my former life. And you turned around and ran to Remus Lupin," Hadrian sneered. "He doesn't care for you, Sirius. He doesn't believe you. You have nobody left except _me._ "

"I'm sorry, Hadrian," Sirius said automatically. His tone was solemn as he shook his head, "But I still can't let you kill Remus, even though he may hate me."

"No, _I'm_ sorry, Sirius, " Hadrian said slowly, "But I can't listen to you anymore. I simply don't trust you enough." He turned back to the werewolf and raised his wand, "Avada–"

"I'll join," Sirius blurted out suddenly. Once he began, he realized he couldn't stop, "I'll commit to the Dark Lord, and I'll be one hundred percent dedicated to his cause. If you leave Remus alone now..." Sirius trailed off, his voice becoming shaky, "I'll step into your side of the war and I will never look back. If you let him go, I swear to you all my loyalty. I will not deliberately seek out any Order members, and I'll follow orders given to me by the Dark Lord. You don't have to worry about Remus remembering any of this, either. Once he's in wolf form, he doesn't remember anything. Just, please," Sirius pleaded, "Let him go."

Hadrian faltered in his movements, taking a step back slightly. He snapped his neck back up to glance at his godfather, "Do you mean that?"

Sirius nodded, "I will never look back, I swear to you. Just let him go."

Hadrian dropped his wand arm and turned back to Sirius with a wry smile, "You want me to let him go, fine. I'll let him go. But if I come to learn you stepped even a single toe out of line, Sirius Black, mark my words," Hadrian's eyes turned threatening and he pointed his wand at his godfather in a flash movement, "I will be the one to kill you myself."

Sirius Black nodded a bit too quickly, chancing a glance at the barely breathing werewolf near them. "What about Remus will he be–"

"Hadrian!"

They both turned to face the voice that ran through the clearing of trees beside them. Hadrian's eyes widened as Draco stepped through the branches, brandishing his wand with a bright light at the end of it.

"Hadrian, we have to get out of here. There are Aurors–oh, hello Cousin Sirius–and they're looking for him," Draco jerked his head toward Sirius, "It sounds like there's only a few of them, but we have to be careful and we have to leave _now_."

Hadrian nodded once and grabbed Sirius's arm, forcing him to move ahead of them, "We have to get out of here, Sirius. Lupin is fine. He might be out of a job, but he's physically alive. You, on the other hand, might not get the same leniency from the Aurors. We need to find a way for you to get out of here."

"Remus said his office was connected to the floo," Sirius said slowly, "We can go through there."

When the two boys readily agreed, Sirius took one last look at his former friend. He was a reminder of the old life he had, and now as Remus laid there broken and bleeding, Sirius realized it was time to move on. This is what he had promised Hadrian. And so hurried through the forest, dodging and hiding from any Aurors that came close to them. He kept his promise and he never looked back.

* * *

"That was close," Hadrian Riddle commented as they snuck out of their DADA professor's office. They crept through the silent corridors and dark stairwells, keeping quiet in case Filch caught them. They had made it safely back into the castle, despite all odds. Even Hermione and Blaise had somehow made it back, with Blaise spending the night in the hospital wing to get his ankle repositioned.

It was hard to believe just minutes ago they were running from a werewolf and a team of Aurors, and so it seemed rather ridiculous to be scared of the Caretaker. The rest of the school had no idea what had just occurred in the forest right outside their windows. They had no idea of the danger they had slept through in their beds.

As Draco walked back with his best friend, he couldn't help but think back to the conversation he had overheard earlier in the forest. He wasn't sure he had heard it correctly at first, because it just didn't make any sense. His mind physically couldn't comprehend the fact.

He didn't say anything when he stepped out of the trees in the forest. He didn't say anything when he watched the ends of Sirius Black's cloak disappear in the floo minutes earlier. He didn't even say anything when they made it back into the Slytherin common room.

It was when he was about to enter into his own private room did Draco stop for a second and consider what he had overheard. It had been troubling him ever since he had accidentally heard it. He took his hand off his door handle and turned to Hadrian, a puzzled expression plastered onto his face.

"Hadrian," Draco began, with a frown, "You know I don't question you often, but were you actually going to kill our defense professor?"

Hadrian opened his own door, rolling his eyes in the process, "Merlin, no. But it was just the right amount of leverage I needed to convince Sirius to cement his position on our side."

"Of course, of course," Draco agreed. He raised an eyebrow, "One other small question: Why did you say James Potter abandoned you as a child? And why did you call Lily Potter your mother?"

 **St. Mungo's Hospital [June 10** **th** **]**

James Potter watched his friend snore lightly, wrapped in a dark blue blanket with one of his legs sticking out of the hospital bed. . It had been almost three weeks since his friend had been put in a magical coma to help heal his life-threating injuries, and today was the day the Healers had informed him that his friend had woken up. His face was covered in angry bruises and multiple deep wounds. James could only assume the rest of his body was in the same rough state.

He stood at his friend's bedside and observed his silent, sleeping form for a minute. Then, he kicked the bed frame, forcing his friend, Remus Lupin, to awake with a start. Remus jerked back in his bed, only relaxing when he saw James Potter staring at him with a raised eyebrow.

"Why did you seek out Sirius?" James demanded gruffly, all formalities aside.

Remus rubbed his eyes to get the sleep out of them completely. He avoided James's piercing gaze. "Good morning to you too, James. How are you, Remus? Do you feel better from that night when you almost died?" He muttered to himself, reaching over to grab the cup of water at his side.

In a movement so quick Remus didn't even see it, James reached out and grabbed his arm in a vice grip. His eyes were full of warning as he repeated, "Don't dodge the question, Moony. Why did you seek out Sirius?"

Remus sighed, pulling his arm away slowly and rubbing his wrist with a wince, "I wanted to know for myself whether he had betrayed us."

James crossed his arms, "And what did you determine?"

"You were right, James," Remus whispered quietly, staring blankly at the poster about dragon pox magically plastered to the wall in front of him, "He has the dark mark and everything. He betrayed us in cold blood."

James nodded in triumph, finally settling down in a chair beside Remus's hospital bed, "I told you so. You didn't believe me."

Remus shook his head sadly, "I didn't want to believe it. But he gave me no choice, James. He's a Death Eater."

James leaned back in his seat, "Do you remember anything from that night, anything that would help us track him down for once and for all?"

Remus scrunched his brows, trying to remember the chaotic events from that night. He recalled trying to kill Sirius in his werewolf form, but he was unable to succeed. He frowned, reaching for the glass of water at his bedside. _Why hadn't he been able to kill Sirius?_ He closed his eyes, trying to think back to what had happened last night.

 _Someone had blasted him away from Sirius._

 _Someone had thrown curses at him until he couldn't breathe, until Sirius got away._

 _He remembered looking into those crazed eyes–green as the killing curse, cold as ice._

 _He was paralyzed, and not just by the spell that immobilized him. He'd seen that face before._

He dropped his water glass in shock, barely noticing as it shattered to a thousand pieces on the floor.

"Harry. Harry Potter."

James sat up straight in his seat, staring at Remus with a confused look, "What did you just say?"

Remus was pale as a ghost, and he shivered slightly as he whispered, "He saved Sirius. I saw him. I saw him, James. I saw your Harry."

 **A/N #2: AND that was year 3! It wasn't as great as I wanted it to be, but hey, third year is literally my least favorite book in the entire series. On the bright side, fourth year is my favorite and I've been writing scenes for fourth year since I started this fanfiction series! I can't wait to update next month! See you then!**


	11. Gone

**A/N: Yes, I know I didn't update in October. But things get so hectic when you have constant midterms and everything. So as a kind of "sorry" present, I'm uploading this chapter, and the next one by like Dec 18** **th** **, and then another one before December ends (merry Christmas?) Hope you liked this chapter, DON'T FREAK OUT AT THE END, IM SORRY IN ADVANCE. I promise it will all make sense within the next 2 or three chapters! 4** **th** **year begins officially! Please be sure to review, it means a lot! Enjoy!**

 **Riddle Manor [August 4** **th** **]**

"You're slowing down, Draco! Move faster!" Hadrian yelled as he jabbed his wand in the air in precise movements. The sweat from his hair dripped into his eyes, making them burn every time he blinked. He'd already been hit with a variety of unfamiliar spells over the past few hours and he wasn't sure how much longer he could hold up his shield.

"I'm trying, mate," Draco grunted, already occupied with defending himself from the onslaught of spells being hurled at him, "In case you haven't noticed, it's rather difficult to attack _and_ defend at the same time!"

Hadrian panted in response, too out of breath to form a coherent reply. His wand arm nearly collapsed with overexertion as he hit another target. Just when he was sure his knees would give out from sheer exhaustion, he heard a loud buzzing sound fill his ears.

He closed his eyes and dropped his wand on the grass, letting out a sigh of relief so loud he swore even Draco could hear it from across the field. He fell onto the ground, gripping the blades of grass for support because his body felt as though there was no energy, or even life left inside. From a quick glance to the side, he could see his best friend was in a similar position sprawled on the ground.

"That was exactly thirty four minutes," A sharp voice barked from the side, stepping one heeled boot right in front of his nose. Hadrian glanced up with bleary eyes, following the outline of the thin silhouette all the way up to the crazy curls atop her head.

"Bella– _please ._ We tried," He murmured, throwing an arm over his head in an attempt to block the sunlight that was pelting their sweaty bodies.

Bellatrix ripped the arm off his face, causing him to groan loudly. He felt like she had pulled his arm straight out of his socket with such a brutal movement. He stubbornly kept his eyes closed, however, unwilling to stand up and listen to her ranting. He didn't even have the stamina to breathe, let alone have a serious conversation about his dueling technique.

"Get _up_ , Hadrian. You too, Draco," Bellatrix barked, her tone unyielding to their pitiful protests. She stomped over to where Draco had collapsed and proceeded to harass him, or so Hadrian presumed.

"Leave me alone, Aunt Bella!" Draco whined loudly after a few minutes, burying his face into the grass in an attempt to ignore the crazed woman poking his side with her pointed shoe, "I'm tired!"

Bellatrix rolled her eyes, "Do you think the Order cares if you're tired? Do you think they'll be waiting with biscuits and pumpkin juice if you faint from exhaustion in the middle of battle?"

Hadrian sighed, "That would be quite nice of them. Maybe they'll have some chocolate frogs too."

Bellatrix snapped her fingers loudly in front of his eyes, "Snap out of it! The Order will throw you in Azkaban or kill you on the spot if they ever catch you off guard!"

"We've been practicing all summer, can't we just have one break?" Draco groaned, trying to prop himself up on his elbows. "I can't feel my legs," He whimpered, "Why can't I feel my legs?"

Bellatrix rolled her eyes, "Maybe you should've tried to block that paralysis spell better!"

Draco's eyes widened comically, "You can't do this to me! I need my legs! My father will hear about this, and he'll kill you!"

"The spell only lasts for ten minutes, you idiot," She sneered, "And I'm not afraid of itty bitty Lucius. I'm not afraid of anyone." She paused and added, "Don't try to threaten me nephew, or I'll make sure that spell lasts longer next time."

"Mother," A voice called out suddenly, "What's going on here?"

Hadrian glanced up from his position on the grass in time to see Destiny sauntering into their practice arena wearing a dainty little white dress and actual ribbons in her hair. He growled under his breath.

It was extremely unfair. Though his father had given orders that he, Draco, and Destiny be trained all summer, it seemed he and Draco were the only ones suffering. Their training started before the sun had a chance to rise and consisted of rigorous dueling exercises and physical activity. He and Draco would always end up with bloodstained clothing dripping with sweat and some sort of injury that Narcissa would grimly fix later that day. Draco had even broken his arm during practice once, and Bellatrix had still forced him to continue dueling. Their training had been absolute hell from day one.

Destiny, on the other hand, was enjoying her training–if you could even call it that. His father had found some divinations professor from the States who had eagerly agreed to tutor Destiny in the Art of Divination, especially when she found out Destiny was a Seer. Her training usually began sometime around late morning and consisted of Destiny looking into the future and recording it in her journal for her teacher to review and give feedback. Destiny's tutor, Janet, was a short woman whose mannerisms resembled those of an excited toddler. She was bouncy, easy-going, and seemed eerily fascinated with Destiny's abilities. Hadrian almost felt sorry for that woman, since he knew his father would probably obliviate her and send her to some remote village in Russia upon completion of Destiny's training, just to be safe.

He snapped out of his thoughts when Destiny came closer to them and crossed her arms across her chest with a frown, "Mother, are you threatening people again?"

Bellatrix froze, turning around with a slight smile, "Destiny, darling, of course not! I was just giving Draco here some life advice."

Draco sputtered in disbelief, "This is what you call 'life advice'? This is what I call abuse!"

Destiny put her hands on her hips, "Mother, what did we talk about?"

Bellatrix avoided her daughter's gaze, "Threatening people makes them hate you," She scowled, "I still don't understand why that's a bad thing?"

Destiny sighed heavily, "We'll discuss this later. I came to talk to Hadrian about something. Do you mind if I steal him away from his training for a while?"

Bellatrix smiled sweetly, "Of course not, dear. Just be sure to drop him back off when you're finished," She turned her attention back to Draco, "Draco, go take a lap around the property."

"Can you steal me away too? I'm willing to listen to whatever your drivel your headaches tell you at this point," Draco grunted, picking himself off the ground before Bellatrix decided to hex him for being too slow to respond to her commands.

Hadrian dusted off his pants and stood up, smiling at his sister, "Thanks for getting me out of that. I don't know how much more I can take of that crazy woman."

"You know I can hear you," Bellatrix called out.

"Yes, I'm aware of that," Hadrian shot back, offering Destiny his arm before they began to walk towards the Manor. Destiny stifled a laugh, not even bothering to defend her mother. She knew her mother could be rather insane sometimes, but that's something she loved about her.

As they walked back, they talked about their respective trainings. They talked about their progress. They talked about the upcoming school year. They talked about everything except what Destiny had actually pulled him aside to talk about, Hadrian suspected.

To the casual observer, Destiny seemed perfectly fine. She was laughing and telling him stories about her eccentric tutor, but underneath the surface Hadrian could see there was something troubling her deeply. And so when they walked into his personal chambers in Riddle Manor, he didn't waste a second.

"What is it? What's bothering you?" He asked, throwing up a wordless silencing spell before she could try to stall any longer. He had known her for so long, and even if they weren't exactly related by blood, he still loved her as if she were his real sister. He was positive he knew everything about her, and right now, there was definitely something distressing on her mind.

Destiny looked rather uncomfortable as she settled herself into one of the plushy armchairs. Her shoulders were stiff and her entire body seemed on edge. Hadrian watched her closely as he sat on the sofa across from her and clasped his hands in his lap. She seemed to be struggling with something, and he frowned.

"Destiny," He warned, "Tell me what's wrong. Did you see something?"

She nodded, "Well I–Yes, I did see something."

"Are you going to elaborate on that or do I have to force an explanation out of you?"

She bit her lip, "Hadrian–I don't know how to say this."

"Maybe with words?" He offered jokingly. When she didn't laugh, he frowned and noticed she was almost shaking with worry. His eyes widened and he rose from his position on the couch and kneeled down next to her, taking her hands in his own.

"Destiny, what's going on?" He asked soothingly, "Whatever it is, it cannot be as bad as you think."

She smiled wryly, "Oh, it definitely is."

"Tell me," Hadrian prodded gently, "What is it that has gotten you so panicked?"

Her eyes filled with tears suddenly, and she shook her head, "That's the thing, I can't tell you. There's nothing you can do that can prevent this. It's simply fate, it's meant to be."

He frowned, "Destiny, there's nothing you can't tell me. The whole point of you being a Seer is so we're always one step ahead, so we can write our own futures. Besides, why did you even bring me here to talk if you can't tell me?"

"I don't know," She let out a bitter laugh, "I suppose I intended on telling you, but now I realized it's better if you don't know. You might try to prevent it, and I'm sorry but I can't have that. This is what is meant to happen, and this is what _will_ happen."

"Better if I don't know _what_ , exactly?" He asked sharply, "I'm serious Destiny, tell me what's going on–or going to happen."

She shook her head resolutely, as if making up her mind, "You'll be devastated at first, I know you will. You'll be furious and you will hate me, but I know you'll forgive me eventually," She tightened her hands in his and looked at him sadly, "Trust me, you might be frustrated now, but in the end this is what's best –not just for me, but it's what's best for everyone. This is what is meant to be."

"What in Merlin's hell are you talking about? Are all Seers always this cryptic?" He muttered angrily. He raised his voice and grabbed her shoulders, "Destiny, you will tell me what you are talking about _right now_."

"I'm seeing Neville," She blurted out, "We've been dating since the end of first year."

Hadrian dropped his arms in shock and looked flabbergasted. He opened his mouth to say something, but shut it immediately finding it impossible to speak. He eventually settled for just staring at her with wide, unblinking eyes.

"Hadrian, please say something," Destiny said anxiously, "I'm sorry I didn't tell you."

Hadrian cleared his throat, "I'm going to kill Neville."

She exhaled loudly, "Okay, when I said 'Say something', I didn't mean a death threat against my boyfriend."

He cringed, "Do _not_ call him that," He shook his head, "Neville? Really? Since first year? And you never thought to tell me?"

She nervously wrung her hands in her lap, "I was worried about your reaction. I thought you'd react badly… kind of like how you're reacting now."

"The nerve of him to think–I'll kill him, with my bare hands–didn't even ask _my_ permission–how dare he–I'll hex his balls off–" Hadrian stopped mid sentence and swallowed uncomfortably, "Are you still _–_ has your innocence been compromised?"

Destiny was confused for a split second before she registered the meaning of his odd statement and her face turned bright red, "What? Hadrian! No! I can't believe you! How could you ask me something like that that?"

He crossed his arms defiantly, "Well, you are my baby sister, I deserve to know if I need to duel some bastard to the death to protect your honor."

"Hadrian, we're the same age," She pointed out irritably, "And Neville is one of your best friends, you wouldn't duel him to the death."

"I just might," He said stubbornly, "And technically you _are_ a year younger than me. We're only in the same year in school because Bellatrix changed your records and did a blood adoption ceremony to make sure nobody could track you down."

"Technicalities," Destiny waved her hand, "At least I told you now! Neville wanted to wait till we graduated Hogwarts."

"I ought to beat him to death," Hadrian said darkly, cracking his knuckles, "Who does he think he is?"

"So I take it you approve?" Destiny asked sarcastically, rising up from her seat and moving towards the door, "Anyways, as much as I'd like to sit here listening to you plot Neville's death, I have to get back to Janet, she only gives me an hour break per session."

Hadrian shook his head in disbelief, "I cannot believe _this_ is what you were so afraid to tell me. I mean, I'm still going to curse the life out of Neville the next time I see him, but I thought you were going to tell me you were going to die from dragon pox or something."

Destiny paused at the door and turned back with a forced smile, "I suppose I was scared for no reason. I'm glad I told you; it feels good to get that off my shoulders. I'll see you at dinner, I think the elves are making your favorite."

Hadrian perked up at that, "Spaghetti?"

She shook her head, "Roast chicken–oh wait, that's _my_ favorite."

He rolled his eyes affectionately, "Brat."

Hadrian watched her laugh in response and head back to her training session. Though he had been shocked by Destiny's news, something felt off. He knew his sister. Though he was glad she had decided to tell him about her relationship with Neville–he almost gagged at the thought–he had a feeling that was not what she had originally intended to say. She was hiding something, and he would make it his mission to find out what it was before the beginning of the school year.

 **Diagon Alley [August 15** **th** **]**

Hadrian tried to stifle his yawn as Daphne dragged him and Draco through what seemed like nearly every single shop in Diagon Alley. The entire area was filled with students milling about shopping for their school supplies with their friends or parents, which made it rather difficult to navigate through the bustling crowd.

They'd been shopping for almost three hours and they'd only checked off about half of the items on their respective lists. The whole process would've probably gone faster if his friends had stopped getting distracted by the various racing brooms and new robes that were arranged enticingly in shop displays.

He was still incredibly tired from the strategy meeting his father had allowed him to attend last night, and the constant dallying from store to store was not helping the headache that had been slowly brewing ever since he had woken up that morning. He had a sudden appreciation for the way his father had sat through these idiotic meetings for years, especially when said meetings inevitably turned into a screaming match between Bellatrix and some other lowly Death Eater.

"I hate shopping," Draco muttered from beside him, voicing his thoughts exactly. Hadrian was about to respond, but he was cut off by the blond's loud groan.

Hadrian raised an eyebrow, "What now?"

"Daphne ran into Granger," Draco sighed, pointing to where the two witches were laughing with each other by a display of cauldrons, "Now we'll never get to leave."

As if on cue, the two witches walked over to them, arm in arm and with matching smiles on their faces. "Guess who I found shopping by herself?" Daphne beamed.

"Daphne, we have eyes. We know its Granger from the lack of friends by her side and the abundance of frizzy hair on her head," Draco pointed out in a scathing tone.

"Hello Malfoy, good to see you as always," Hermione said tightly. She turned to Hadrian and grinned widely, "Hadrian, I haven't seen you in forever!" She threw her arms around his neck and Hadrian laughed at her excitement.

"Good to see you too, Granger," He hugged her back and raised an eyebrow, "Have you read all those books I owled you earlier this summer?"

She shrugged, "I couldn't practice any of the spells because of the trace, but I have memorized the incantations and wand movements. Once I'm at Hogwarts, I can't wait to try each one."

Daphne groaned, "Can you two save the boring academic talk for school? Right now we're here to shop and we're not leaving till we get everything on the list. I don't particularly fancy having to come back here just because I forgot a quill."

"Yes Ma'am," Draco saluted her mockingly and grabbed the shopping bag from her arms, "Where to next?"

"We're going to Genevieve's next, and then we'll grab some lunch before getting everything else on our list," Hermione said.

Draco paused in his steps, "Genevieve's? Isn't that the new boutique filled with fluffy dresses? Why are we going there?"

"For some reason, the list this year says we need formal dress robes," Daphne explained, "And since we don't have anything suitable to wear–"

Draco snorted, "That's a lie. Your closet could dress a small city, Daphne. And there's no way you can force me or Hadrian to go inside that girly shop. I simply won't do it."

Hermione and Daphne exchanged a look and ten minutes later, Draco found himself sitting on one of the pink chairs shaped like a woman's high heel outside the fitting rooms in Genevieve's Boutique. His entire demeanor screamed how annoyed he was with the situation, and he turned and glanced at Hadrian with a scowl.

"How did we get talked into this?" Draco frowned, "I swear I said I wasn't coming in here."

Hadrian lazily flipped a page in one of the textbooks they had purchased earlier, "I knew they would win the argument, so I didn't even bother arguing with them."

Draco tapped his fingers on the chair, trying to ignore the fact that everything around him was in various shades of pink. He idly scanned the shop with bored eyes, and he blinked when he saw a tall black-haired boy at the front desk.

His eyes narrowed with recognition and he nudged Hadrian, "Is that Blaise?"

Hadrian glanced up to where Draco was pointing and nodded, "I wonder what he's doing here?"

"Let's go ask him, shall we?"

They both rose and walked over to Blaise. Draco tapped him multiple times on the shoulder and Blaise turned around with an annoyed look on his face.

"Who did th–Oh no," Blaise murmured, looking at the matching grins on his best friends' faces, "What are you two doing here?"

"Daphne and Hermione dragged us in here," Hadrian said dismissively, "The real question is, what are you doing here, alone?"

"He's obviously buying a pretty dress to wear, Hadrian. He has to look nice for all the boys," Draco laughed.

Blaise rolled his eyes, "Hilarious, Draco. And not that it's any of your business, but I'm picking up a dress for my mother," He showed them the sleek black dress bag in his hands, "She's somewhere in India right now but she still somehow manages to send me a list of errands."

"Mr. Zabini, here is the second dress you just requested, the onyx black with the organza silk," The sales attendant spoke loudly as she walked through the door that presumably led to the storage room in the back.

Draco raised an eyebrow, "So I take it the second dress is for you then?"

Blaise discreetly elbowed his ribs and turned back around to face the woman with a polite–albeit, a bit forced–smile, "Charge it to my mother's account, please."

"Right away, Mr. Zabini," The woman simpered, passing him the dress incased in the same black dress bag. She turned to Hadrian and Draco, "Can I help you boys with anything?"

Hadrian shook his head, trying to stifle his laughter, "No thank you, we're just waiting on our friends to choose a dress."

"Before you come to your own conclusions–" Blaise began as soon as the sales woman had left them alone.

"It's fine if you like to wear fluffy dresses, Blaise. We like you the way you are," Draco interrupted.

"We wouldn't dare to judge your life choices, Blaise," Hadrian added in a mock serious tone, "You are free to be yourself around us."

Blaise rubbed his temples in annoyance, "Shut up, you tossers. If you must know, the second dress is for Ginevra Weasley."

Draco automatically frowned, "Why are you buying her a dress?"

Blaise shrugged innocently, "She probably doesn't have anything appropriate for the occasion. I just thought I'd do something nice. I mean, if we are to _cultivate_ her," He tipped his head toward Hadrian, "She might as well be dressed for the part."

Hadrian smirked knowingly, "That's awfully kind of you, Blaise."

He nodded, "Yes, I know, I'm a Saint. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to get my mother a set of gold cauldrons before she gets back tomorrow."

"Don't you want to stay and keep us company while the girls go through what seems like the entire shop?" Draco asked.

Blaise snorted, "Not in the slightest. You two have fun though." He clapped them on the back and hastened to leave the shop.

"I think he fancies that Weasley girl," Draco mused as they walked back to their respective chairs.

"It's Blaise. He'll be in love with her for a week or two before moving on to the next pretty girl who smiles at him," Hadrian pointed out, "I doubt he _seriously_ fancies her."

"You're probably right," Draco replied. He was about to say something more, but then the girls walked out of their respective fitting rooms and his eyes widened.

"What do you think?" Daphne asked, doing a little twirl in her floor length blue dress. Hermione held her hands nervously at her sides, and looked rather uncomfortable in her own tight dress.

"I hate it," Draco blurted out before Hadrian even had a chance to speak "Daphne, that neckline looks like a toddler cut it up, and Granger looks like she's two breaths away from fainting in her dress."

Everyone stared at him in shock and he shrugged, "Don't look at me like that. You don't get to be Narcissa Malfoy's son without knowing about ladies fashion. Now go back in there and change."

Daphne turned to Hermione and muttered quietly, "I honestly feel so attacked right now."

Hadrian simply gave his best friend an exasperated look as they disappeared back into the changing rooms. He turned back to his textbook with a sigh, but he could barely focus on the reading since his father had informed him of their upcoming raid in their meeting last night. This would be their biggest mission thus far, and Hadrian was sure he had trained all summer in order to be able to be a part of this.

He was so absorbed in his own thoughts that he didn't notice the girls had come back out until Daphne asked him, "Hadrian, what do you think?"

Hadrian looked up from his book abruptly and froze. Daphne had switched her blue dress for a long silver dress than hugged her figure and flowed down past her hips. He swallowed hard as his gaze raked past her exposed shoulders down to the modest slit that showed off her long legs.

"Hadrian, are you paying attention? I asked you if it looks decent," Daphne repeated.

"Yeah–I mean, Yes. It–I mean you–You look beautiful," Hadrian stammered out.

Daphne smiled shyly, "Thanks, Hadrian."

"For Merlin's sake, Granger, it's not that difficult!" Draco complained loudly, "No bright colors, they make your hips look huge. No dark colors, they make your already dull face look even duller. No poofy ball gowns because frankly I don't think you have the grace or coordination to walk in one." He got up from his seat and went to a random section of the store, pulling a dress off the rack after a few moments of scrutiny. He walked back to Hermione and shoved the dress in her hands, "Here, try this one. It's periwinkle, that's a color."

"I know what periwinkle is, you condescending little twerp," Hermione seethed, marching back into the changing room and slamming the door angrily.

Daphne shook her head in disapproval, following Hermione into the changing area. "I'm going to go try on another dress–Draco, please stop being rude."

Hadrian nodded in agreement as Daphne disappeared, "You could've been a bit more polite."

Draco scoffed, "It's not my fault she has no fashion sense. I am being as nice as I can."

Hadrian was about to respond, when the same sales attendant from before approached them and cleared her throat, "I have an owl for Hadrian Riddle? I believe it's urgent, for that owl was pecking on our window so violently I thought he might break it."

Hadrian thanked the woman and took the sealed note from her hands. He waited until she had retreated back to the counter before opening the note.

 _Come back to the Manor immediately._

 _We are starting an hour earlier than planned._

The note was unsigned, but Hadrian knew exactly whom it was from. He stood up immediately and shoved his books back into his bag. He turned to Draco and mumbled, "I have to go, father wants me to arrive earlier than everyone else to go over some final things."

Draco nodded seriously, "I'll see you tonight, mate."

"You're leaving? Already?" Daphne stepped out of the changing room in a classy red dress, a frown marring her pretty features.

Hadrian smiled apologetically, "Sorry love, you know how my father is." He kissed her cheek and whispered, "I liked the silver one better."

He waved goodbye and walked towards the exit, pausing at the shop counter. He turned to the sales attendant and smiled, "Can you do me a favor?"

Daphne watched Hadrian leave and collapsed carelessly into the chair he had just vacated, "He seems even more stressed than usual. Am I allowed to ask what's going on?"

"His father decided to strike tonight," Draco whispered under his breath, "Hadrian has been losing his mind going around and making sure everything runs as planned. You know how demanding his father is."

Daphne bit her lip, "I'm worried about him. I want him to–We all want him to succeed, but I don't want him to collapse from the stress."

"It's Hadrian Riddle," Draco commented, "If anyone can do it, it'll be him. Our job is just to make sure to be there when he needs us."

"Okay, what do you think about this one," Hermione asked as she stepped out, completely oblivious to their hushed conversation. She did a little twirl like she's seen Daphne do and enjoyed the way the gown flared out when she did so.

Daphne gasped, "Oh Merlin, it's absolutely stunning, Hermione! I hate to say it Draco, but you have excellent taste."

Draco felt his cheeks heat up a bit as he glanced at Hermione, and he quickly averted his gaze and cleared his throat, "Uh, yes, I know. I do have excellent taste."

Hermione admired herself in the mirror and smiled, "I quite like this one too. I wonder how much it is?" She reached behind her for the price–tag and nearly fainted in shock.

"600 galleons?" She gasped, "I can't afford that." She shook her head, "Why am I even wearing this? I can't–"

"Excuse me, Miss. The boy that was with you earlier, Mr. Riddle, he said both your dresses were to be charged on his account. Don't worry about the price, he said it was on him," The sales attendant interjected from nearby, smiling at them.

"B-But it's 600 galleons!" Hermione sputtered, "I can't possibly let him buy that! It's too expensive–"

Draco snorted, "Granger, I hate to tell you this but Hadrian's shoes probably cost more than both your dresses combined. I doubt this will make a dent in his inheritance."

"I can't–"

"Think of it this way, Hermione. Hadrian likes to invest in people. He wants to make sure everyone around him is at his or her best. By buying you this dress, he's just helping himself, " Daphne explained.

"But 600 galleons, and he's also buying your dress–"

"Granger, stop worrying about money, it makes you seem poor. Can you just accept the fact that it's already paid for and if you don't take the dress, you're letting it go to waste?" Draco crossed his arms in annoyance, "I'll buy you the bloody dress if I have to, just so we can get out of here already! I have things to do and I'm starving!"

Hermione looked ready to argue but at his sharp look she backed down and agreed, albeit reluctantly. "You know sometimes it scares me how rich you people are," She grumbled.

"Well, sometimes you scare me with that crazy hair and beaver teeth. But you don't see me complaining about it," Draco snarked. He turned to the sales attendant and waved her over, "Can you pack this one up and–which one did you decide on Daphne?"

"The silver one."

"Yes, can you pack both those up, thank you." Draco said curtly, picking up his bags, "Right, now that you two made me sit through that torture, we're going to be talking about quidditch for the rest of the afternoon. Now, how about that semi-final match last week?"

 **Riddle Manor [August 15** **th** **]**

Hadrian sat rigidly in the uncomfortable chair across from his father's desk. He drummed his fingers on the arm of the chair as he watched his father closely. The man seemed calm–or at least, he wasn't outwardly furious–and his entire demeanor was relaxed from the way he leaned back in his chair to the way he poured himself a drink.

"Celebrating early?" Hadrian raised an eyebrow, "The raid hasn't even started."

The Dark Lord curved the corners of his lips up into what loosely resembled a smile, "It's never too early to celebrate victories. Especially when they're already written into the future."

Hadrian cocked his head to the side in confusion, "What do you mean?"

His father rolled his eyes in obvious irritation, "There's a reason we have a Seer on our side, Hadrian. Destiny has been predicting our victories and preventing our losses ever since we acquired her. I'm not being presumptuous. Our success is quite literally written in the stars."

Hadrian felt an odd feeling creep into his bones. He wasn't sure why, but it felt like a strange sense of dread. As if he knew something wasn't completely right. Pushing down the mysterious thought, Hadrian questioned his father further, "And what if she's wrong?"

His father sighed heavily, standing up from his chair and reaching for his cloak that had been carelessly tossed onto the desk. Hadrian quickly followed his father's movements, grabbing his own coat and mask that lay beside it.

"Destiny has never been wrong in her entire time with us. She has predicted a victory for us tonight. She has promised that tonight, we will make history," His father pushed open the double doors to his office in a dramatic fashion and looked at him over his shoulder, "Tonight, we take over the Ministry."

 **Riddle Manor [August 15** **th** **]**

Hadrian had one goal. It had been the one thing he had been in charge of, and it was the only thing he'd been especially committed to. He had written up plans and memorized blueprints of the Ministry for weeks beforehand. He had made sure everyone on his team–Bellatrix, Draco, and Sirius–had known, breathed, and could probably recite the entire plan in their sleep. It was a relatively simple strategy, after all.

The first step was two get into the Ministry's atrium, something that didn't take much effort at all. The second step was to imperious a random Ministry worker with the proper clearance and gain access to the Minister's private office–which was significantly harder, but between the four of them he was sure they could do it.

The third and final part was the most important, and also the most difficult part of their plan. Hadrian was to clear a path for his father's team to move into the Minister's office. He was to escape back through the floo before anyone realized something was amiss–before anyone realized his father had murdered the Minister in cold blood.

Everything had been planned to the smallest detail. Everything was supposed to go as planned.

And minus a few details, everything had gone as planned, at least for his group.

He tumbled out of the floo in Riddle Manor, coughing up soot and covered in a combination of dust and ash. Before he even had time to move out of the way, Draco crashed into him, pushing him face first down onto the massive rug that stretched across the entire room. Hadrian groaned a bit, but other than a few other minor injuries he'd sustained, everything else seemed fine. He took off his mask and felt relief at the cool air on his face.

Luckily, they moved out of the way before Sirius and Bellatrix made their way through. Unlike the two boys, however, the Black cousins gracefully stepped out of the floo one by one, without making a spectacle of themselves. Sirius quickly removed his mask, tossing it to the side and making a show of taking in a deep breath of fresh air.

Before Bellatrix had even crossed the threshold of the room, she immediately demanded to see Destiny, "Where is she? Where is my daughter?"

"She arrived a while before your team did," A voice replied calmly from nearby. Hadrian looked up just in time to see Narcissa Malfoy stepping into the room, a tight smile on her face, "She's just upstairs resting in her room."

Narcissa tsked in disapproval when she saw her son and Hadrian still on the floor, and they quickly hastened to push themselves up into a dignified, upright position.

"Did everyone else arrive in time?" Hadrian asked, brushing off whatever grime he could off his clothing. He was so preoccupied with fixing up his appearance that he almost missed the look of worry that quickly passed through Narcissa's eyes.

"Yes, everyone else is here. We're just waiting for Lucius and the Dark Lord to return with the rest of the men on their team. If I recall correctly, they were set to arrive soon after you," She paused to wipe a smudge of dirt from Draco's face–though he tried to push her hands away in embarrassment, "We have been waiting in the west wing parlour for people to return. There are some refreshments waiting, if you'd like."

Sirius grinned, "That's all I need to hear. Let's go boys."

Draco immediately followed behind the black-haired man, but Hadrian stood rooted in his spot. He waved his hand dismissively, "You two go on without me, I need to go over a few things with Bellatrix. I'll meet up with you later."

They quickly nodded and shuffled out of the room. Hadrian waited until he couldn't hear their footsteps anymore before turning back to face the two women in the room. He frowned, "They should have been back by now."

Bellatrix shook her head, sending her wild curls flying everywhere, "Don't be ridiculous, they had a much harder task than we did. Their task required stealth and finesse and– " She scowled suddenly, "They might've been here if you hadn't spent so long dueling that Order member. You should've just stunned him! We were pushed back ten minutes because of that!"

Hadrian crossed his arms across his chest in frustration, "He attacked me first! Stunning him wasn't enough!"

Bellatrix rolled her eyes, "I'm usually the biggest advocate for being petty, but in the middle of a raid, you always stick to the schedule. Retaliation was not on the agenda! Timing is everything, Hadrian."

Hadrian was about to reply, but Narcissa raised her hand slightly to cut him off. She shook her head, "Stop bickering. Hadrian, Bella is right: don't create new battles. But Bella, regardless of the slight shift back on your schedule, they should still have been back by now,"

As if on cue, the floo fired up again and Hadrian watched with a bated breath as Lucius stepped through the fireplace.

Narcissa ran up to greet her husband, but stopped abruptly in shock.

Lucius blankly stared at them with panicked eyes in silence. It seemed like he didn't even realize they were there. He barely noticed the way the large gash on his cheek dripped thick blood onto the expensive carpet. His arm was twisted in an angle that didn't seem right, though it did seem extremely painful. He coughed painfully and wiped the blood off his mouth before finally registering their presence in the room.

"We have a problem," He spoke in a tone that was barely above a whisper, and yet everyone heard him clearly, "The Dark Lord is _gone_."


	12. Traitor

**A/N: Oh my god, are you guys surprised I actually updated when I said I would! I know I am! Who would've thought I would actually make a deadline haha. Anyways, I hope you enjoy this chapter! Next one should be up by Christmas! Happy Holidays everyone! Please review!**

 **Riddle Manor [August 16** **th** **: 3AM]**

Hadrian pounded his fists repeatedly on the door, refusing to stop his frenzied assault until Destiny opened it with an annoyed look on her face. She was wearing her usual silk pajamas and a fluffy robe, and it incensed him further that she had the audacity to sleep at a time like this.

She had barely opened her mouth to speak when Hadrian grabbed her shoulders and slammed her against the adjacent wall, pinning her in place with his furious stare. Destiny looked shocked at his actions, and she cowered against the wall in panic.

"Hadrian, what are you–"

"You. Knew." He stated quietly, barely hiding the rage that simmered behind his words. "You knew all along this would happen. You were _expecting_ it. You knew something would happen to him, and you told _no one_."

Destiny's eyes widened and she had the decency to look down at the floor, her face coloring with shame. "I can explain," She began in a rush.

"What are you playing at?" He growled, pushing her against the wall roughly, "How long have you been working for the Order?"

Destiny's jaw dropped open in surprise, "How can you even think that? Hadrian–you–you and mother–you mean everything to me."

"You have a strange way of showing it," Hadrian sneered. He slammed his fist into the wall, making Destiny jump in alarm. "How long have you known about this?"

Destiny bit her lip, shaking her head forcefully, "Hadrian, you don't want me to answer that. _Please_ , don't make me answer that."

"How long have you known?" Hadrian repeated slowly, his eyes flickering with an emotion so dark, even Destiny had never seen it. At least, not directed at her.

"Please, Hadrian no, I can't answer that," She begged, digging her nails into the wall behind her for support.

"Damn it, Destiny, answer the fucking question! How. Long. Have. You. Known?" He stressed each word, feeling the vein on his forehead begin to pulse in frustration.

"Since I met you. I've always known," Destiny blurted out, closing her eyes in resignation.

Hadrian nearly fell backwards in shock, feeling his stomach drop and his chest tighten considerably. He stared at his sister with wide, unblinking eyes.

"You were waiting for this for _years_ ," He whispered in disgust, "You _wanted_ it–"

"I never wanted it!" Destiny shouted, feeling tears run down her face. She didn't even realize she'd been crying. "I never _wanted_ any of this to happen! It wasn't my choice! This was the future!"

"You didn't put a stop to it," Hadrian hissed. He shook his head, "No, you deliberately sent him–sent all of us– into a death trap."

"No," Destiny disagreed vehemently, "I didn't–"

"Stop talking!" Hadrian roared.

Destiny whimpered as his harsh grip bruised her shoulders, and she began to shake in fear. She'd never seen Hadrian like this. He'd always treated her like she was his real sister, and he'd always been one of the few people to look out for her. She fought back tears as a thought occurred to her: what if she had lost him forever?

Hadrian was visibly trembling with rage, and his voice was cold as he spoke, "The Dark Lord, _my father_ –"

"He's _not_ your real father!" Destiny blurted out, interrupting him mid-sentence.

"What did you just say?" Hadrian clenched his jaw, daring her to speak further, "He's not my real father? Then who is, dear sister?" He paused and let out a derisive laugh, "James Potter?"

Destiny winced as she heard the years of resentment bleed into his tone.

"That man hasn't done a single thing for me in my entire life. As far as I'm concerned, he is _nothing_ to me. The Dark Lord, on the other hand, saved me from that neglect and abandonment I suffered through under Potter's care. He gave me everything."

"Hadrian," She caught the murderous look that passed through his eyes and she quickly hurried to add, "He's only using you, Hadrian. The minute you became a burden, he would've killed you, with no regrets. I've seen it! You were always disposable to him!"

"Forgive me if I don't trust your _visions_ anymore," Hadrian scoffed, "The Dark Lord is in some kind of sick, incorporeal form right now. Lucius told us looks like a dismembered Inferi. He could've _died_ but thanks to some miracle, a part of his soul is still keeping him alive."

Destiny gulped, "You mean he didn't–"

"Oh, he's alive," Hadrian chuckled darkly, "Barely, but he's alive. I wonder what he'll say when he gets stronger and realizes what you've done. Even Bellatrix can't save you from his wrath."

"He can't be alive–" Destiny shook her head in disbelief, "I saw him–it's not possible."

Hadrian rolled his eyes, "Did you really think an insignificant little girl could cause the fall of the Dark Lord?"

"Hadrian," Destiny licked her lips and her eyes darted around in panic, "You must listen to me. I'm doing this for you. The Dark Lord's demise is necessary–"

"For what? Why do you want him gone, Destiny? He gave you a home, a place where you can belong. He gave you a mother who values your life more than she values her own. Why would you do this?" His voice cracked slightly as he added, "You had everything."

"I did it for you!" Destiny screamed, cradling her head in her hands. "I did everything for you! The Dark Lord has a regime built on blood and fear. Nothing good can ever come of it. I only stayed on his side for years because of _you_."

Hadrian faltered, "What are you saying?"

Destiny sighed heavily, "The Dark Lord's demise is followed by _your_ rise to power. The Order runs on corruption, prejudice, and unabashed favoritism, but our side isn't much better! We steal, we cheat, we murder. Do you _enjoy_ taking innocent lives, just to 'send a message'?"

Hadrian felt himself stiffen, "Did you ever ask me? Did you once consider asking to see if I even _wanted_ this?"

Destiny gritted her teeth together, "It was too risky, Hadrian. And you don't have a choice, this is what is best for our world and this is what will happen, regardless of your thoughts on the matter," She paused and added firmly, "You have my word on that."

"No!" Hadrian exclaimed, "Have you gone mad? I don't want this! Not like this!"

Destiny's lips curved up into a ghost of a smile, "I'm so sorry, Hadrian. But the Dark Lord must die; his reign of terror must come to an end," She patted his cheek gently, "I'm sorry it has to be this way."

Hadrian grabbed her hand, squeezing it tightly until she began to wriggle uncomfortably in his grasp.

"Hadrian, stop, you're hurting me," Destiny gasped as he crushed her hand in his.

"No, Destiny," He smiled softly, "You're hurting _me_." He tightened his grip until she cried out in pain, until her tears ran freely down her flushed cheeks. "I don't care if he's the Dark Lord. I don't care if he burns the world down in his pursuit for power. He saved me, you _know_ that. He made me into who I am today. Without him I would've been living a life as a pathetic muggle, or even dead. I owe everything to him. And if he wants to burn the world down, I'll light the match for him. I'd do anything for him."

"And that's what I'd do for _you_ ," Destiny sobbed, finally yanking her hand out of his pulverizing hold, "I'd do anything for you, Hadrian. Please, you have to understand. I did this all for you," Her eyes watered as she murmured, " _You_ are our future. Not the Dark Lord. It's all _you_."

Hadrian visibly recoiled in horror at her words. He felt his throat tighten and he stared at Destiny in disbelief. Then he shook his head, a small smirk forming at his lips. "You promise to bring an end to the Dark Lord? Fine. But I promise to bring him back, every single time. I will lead his followers while he is unable to, and _I_ will handle his affairs. I will do everything just as he used to do. I'll simply be a figurehead until I discover a way to bring him back to life. _That_ is my promise, dear sister."

"What is going on here?" A voice called out, and Bellatrix stepped into her daughter's room, quickly trying to assess the situation. Hadrian was sure she was misinterpreting it highly as she demanded in a shrill voice, "What are you doing, Hadrian?"

"Haven't you heard," Hadrian gave her a mocking smile, ignoring Destiny's quiet pleas to not divulge her betrayal to her mother, "Your daughter is a traitor."

"What is the meaning of this, Hadrian?" Bellatrix sneered, "That is not a light accusation."

"Do you want to tell her, or should I?" Hadrian leered. He snorted, "You know what, you never gave me a choice, so you don't get one either. Guess what, Bella? Your precious daughter is the reason the Dark Lord got surrounded by those Aurors, she is the reason why the Dark Lord may never be whole again. She has waited years for the opportunity to get rid of my father once and for all."

Hadrian watched Bellatrix process his words as a wide range of emotions came over her face. Suddenly, he winced as a sharp sting spread across his cheek, and his entire head turned sideways at the force of Bellatrix's slap. He raised a hand to his cheek in shock, staring at Bellatrix with wide eyes.

"Heir of the Dark Lord or not, never try to pin an accusation like that on my daughter ever again," Bellatrix threatened, narrowing her eyes down at him. "She would never do anything like that."

Hadrian laughed bitterly, "Open your eyes, Bella. She confessed to everything. And on top of it all, she swears she would do it again if she had to."

Bellatrix felt her hands shake at her sides and she looked at her daughter for the answer, "Is this true?"

Destiny didn't respond, but her silent sobs had already answered her mother's question. Bellatrix cursed loudly, staggering backwards in shock until her back hit the opposite wall. She slid down slowly, holding her head in her hands in a position of clear distress.

"Mother, please, you have to understand, whatever I did, I only did for the greater good. It's in everyone's best interests. This simply must happen," Destiny tried to explain, running over and kneeling down to where her mother had crouched into a ball against the wall. "I didn't have a choice."

Bellatrix seemed to ignore her daughter completely, continuing to stare at the ceiling with a blank look on her face. Her lips were moving, but no words were coming out. She looked paralyzed in disbelief.

"Mother," Destiny wrung her hands together, "Please say something."

Bellatrix was silent for a few long minutes before looking at her daughter with a look so cold; it was as though she were looking at a complete stranger. She shook her head, sending her curls flying everywhere and choked out, "Why? Why would you do something like this? I gave you everything."

"It had to be done, mother. Please, you must understand," Destiny pleaded, grabbing her mother's hands in her own.

Bellatrix flinched, pulling her hands away from her daughter. She pretended to not see the hurt look on Destiny's face as she breathed out shakily, "I need time to think over everything. Right now, I can barely even stand to look at you."

Destiny nodded, "Take all the time you need."

Bellatrix leaned away from her daughter slightly, "Thank you," She took a deep breath and added, "And because of that, I must ask you to leave."

"What?" Destiny blinked, wetting her suddenly dry lips, "Leave?"

"Get out!" Bellatrix shouted. Her eyes widened at her unexpected outburst and she gritted her teeth together, "I can't look at you without thinking about what you did," She blurted out, "If you want me to process everything, I need you to leave. Get out of my face, get out of my house, I can't be around you without thinking of snapping your neck."

"Mother?" Destiny whispered, her voice cracking slightly, "Mum, please don't do this."

"I said get out!" Bellatrix shrieked, causing Destiny to fall back on her heels in fright. Destiny swallowed hard and quickly got up, running out of the room as she tried to fight back her tears.

Hadrian watched the scene with unblinking eyes, frankly not caring where his sister went. They had much bigger problems to deal with.

"What do we do? Father is alive, but he can't even stay upright on his own. He can bark a few commands, but he can't lead an entire army," Hadrian leaned against the wall, trying to force his mind to put Destiny's betrayal aside for now, "Not to mention, everyone else can't see him like this. They'll think he's incapable of leading them."

When Bellatrix didn't respond, Hadrian called her name out again.

"What?" She snapped, "I'm thinking."

"I asked what could we even do? The Aurors almost blasted him into pieces. They all think he's dead," Hadrian sighed, running a hand through his hair. "They saw him die."

"No," Bellatrix drawled out contemplatively, "The Dark Lord apparated back even after the Aurors hit him with their spells. They didn't see him dissolve into that ghastly looking thing. In the Aurors eyes, he's still alive."

"But he's barely breathing," Hadrian pointed out. "He certainly isn't in any shape to plan a raid or lead his followers."

"I suppose he can't," Bellatrix paused, a smile curling at her lips, "But you certainly can–under his name, of course."

Hadrian raised an eyebrow, "What do you mean?"

"Nobody ever has to know anything is amiss," Bellatrix's eyes lit up as she continued, "You will lead the Death Eaters under his commands, and we'll create the illusion that the Dark Lord is still well and stronger than ever. The Order can never learn of his current status, otherwise they might try to destroy us completely in our time of weakness. But if they believe he is still alive, they will not provoke us."

"You want me to pretend to be my father?" Hadrian repeated slowly, "Are you bloody insane? That will never work!"

"Think about it, the Dark Lord isn't much of a public figure. Even during raids, our lord doesn't fight on the front lines. He controls and leads everyone from the background. They don't need to see his face. They just need to believe–"

"That he's the one behind everything," Hadrian slowly finished for her.

"We don't tell anyone outside the inner circle of this. That's it. If we can keep his current condition a secret from even his own followers, then nobody else will find out. We can keep this charade up until we find a way to get his body back, and then he can rule his Death Eaters once more," Bellatrix rationalized.

"I don't even know if I can do this," Hadrian murmured, "It's one thing to be his heir, and it's another to actually _be_ the Dark Lord, only if for the time being."

Bellatrix stood up, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. Hadrian stiffened, not used to this kind of physical affection from Bellatrix. She patted his head and hugged him tighter, whispering, "You've trained under him your entire life, Hadrian. Nobody knows him better than you."

He looked at Bellatrix solemnly, " I want to see him first. I need his permission before we proceed with this plan."

Bellatrix bit her lip and nodded, "He's downstairs."

* * *

He didn't know why he knocked. It was a force of habit, he supposed. Under normal circumstances, if he _hadn't_ knocked, his father would've hexed him out of the door until he "learned some manners". It had already happened once, and Hadrian had quickly learned his lesson after that humiliating incident.

This time he didn't hear a foreboding voice say "Enter", nor did the doors slowly open by themselves to let him inside. Hadrian rested his hands on the wooden doors, hesitating for a moment. Then he steeled back his shoulders and with a bated breath, he pushed them open by himself.

The room looked nearly the same as it had been before they had left for their impossible mission. The books were still remarkably organized on their shelves. The large mahogany desk that dominated the entire space remained untouched. Hadrian swallowed hard as he saw the crystal tumbler of firewhisky his father had sipped from just a few hours ago still sitting on his desk. Everything remained still, as if no time had even passed.

The only thing different about the room was the man sitting behind the desk, Hadrian noticed. Despite the tension-filled atmosphere, his lips quirked up in amusement as he noticed the man had pushed a _different_ chair next to where his father's usual chair stood. Out of courtesy or perhaps out of fear, the man had not dared to sit on his father's chair.

"Lucius," Hadrian spoke loudly, tipping his head at the blond behind the desk in a curt greeting, "Where is he?"

Lucius winced, and he shook his head slowly.

Hadrian's eyes widened.

"He's dead? Oh Merlin, what are we supposed to do now," He gasped, sinking down into the chair across the desk and running a hand through his hair.

Lucius gritted his teeth together, "No, you fool," He paused and gestured to the Dark Lord's chair, "He's right there."

Hadrian frowned, unable to see anyone sitting on the chair. He felt Lucius glaring at him, and so he leaned forward a bit in his chair, inch by inch, until he saw a small bundle wrapped in a frayed black cloak. Hadrian felt the bile rise in his throat as his eyes landed on the inhumane limb sticking out of the cloak. It seemed as if there was no flesh on the body anymore, only a sickly gray coating that covered the entire limb. He saw the raised bumps of vertebrae sticking out as he followed the exposed spine all the way up to the skull stretching through the greyish layer of decayed skin.

He opened his mouth, but found it difficult to speak. He pointed to the–the– _thing_ currently in his father's chair and let out a strangled noise. Hadrian cleared his throat, "I–Is that _him_?"

"Clever as always," A raspy voice spoke in a tone quieter than a whisper.

Hadrian fell back into his seat in surprise, gripping the arm of the chair. He blinked. "Father? Was that you?"

Lucius glanced up sharply, "Listen, Hadrian. Your father has limited strength right now. Do _not_ waste his time and breath by asking asinine questions."

"Right," Hadrian nodded. He glanced over at his father again, "C–Can he hear me?"

Lucius resisted the urge to roll his eyes, "Again with the stupid questions."

"I didn't know there were certain rules to this! He can hear me and can speak, but not too much. He can't stand and he can barely breathe, but he somehow has enough energy to insult me." Hadrian said hotly, "How am I supposed to know how to act?"

"Stop complaining. We need to focus on trying to restore him back to his original form," Lucius snapped. "He said something about a potion, a spell, there are hundreds of ideas."

"I didn't know this was a common problem, losing your body and turning into a sickly corpse thing," Hadrian muttered.

Lucius looked up at the ceiling, as though he were begging god for patience. He shot Hadrian a look dripping with so much derision, that Hadrian almost challenged the man to a duel right there.

"I said there were hundreds of _ideas_. We don't know if any of them actually work," Lucius explained.

"Then what are we waiting for?" Hadrian asked, "You have some work to do, Lucius. My father needs to be back in his original form again."

Lucius let out a dark chuckle, "Me? Oh no." He reached over to the side of the desk and slid a stack of books across the table in front of Hadrian. "He wants you to be the one to do the research."

Hadrian raised an eyebrow, "Father wants _me_ to find a way to restore his body? Why me?"

Lucius gritted his teeth together, "Apparently, you are the only one he is willing to trust," He paused and muttered under his breath, "I've been loyal to him since I was of age and yet he leaves such an important matter for a schoolboy to handle."

"What did you say?" Hadrian frowned.

"Nothing," Lucius said quickly, picking up another book and adding it to the Hadrian's stack, "Your father has already suggested several titles for you to read through to start your research."

Hadrian stared at the pile of books in front of him in disbelief, "I have to read all of these by the end of the year?"

Lucius snorted–actually snorted– and said, "Oh no, these are just the ones you have to read by the end of this month."

Pushing aside the thought of his alarming pile of homework, Hadrian brought up the one thing that had been bothering him since he had walked inside, "And what of the missions and raids my father was going to lead this year? We can't just let the Order think they killed him!"

Lucius folded his hands atop the table, "We hadn't gotten to discussing that part yet. For the past few hours, we have been drawing up plans to restore the Dark Lord to his full power."

Hadrian nodded. "If I may, Bellatrix approached me with an idea. My father has never been one to be the center of attention during a raid–usually. Nobody even knows what he looks like–save for a few people and the Order. He usually controls everything from behind the scenes."

"Get to the point, Hadrian," Lucius drawled, tapping his fingers on the desk.

"Bella pointed out that father apparated away before anyone saw him dissolve into that _thing_. Furthermore, nobody outside the inner circle knows of father's current situation. To everyone's knowledge, the Dark Lord is perfectly fine."

"And?"

"So why don't we keep up the illusion? Show them what they think they see. We simply pretend as though the dark lord is alive and capable of raising terror," Hadrian clarified.

"How are we going to do that?" Lucius sighed, "In case you haven't noticed, Hadrian, the Dark Lord is in no shape to lead his followers."

"So I'll do it," Hadrian said, "Most of the lower Death Eaters take their orders from me, anyways. Only the inner circle receives orders directly from my father. I can pretend to be my father."

The older man shook his head, "I doubt that will work Hadrian. You may be his heir, but the Dark Lord is ruthless and his mind is like no other. They'll see through this farce in an instant."

"Not if I'm getting my orders directly from father, they won't," Hadrian grinned, "It's simple, really. Father gives me orders, I give them to the inner circle, and the inner circle relays the necessary information to everyone else. Nobody has to know of the Dark Lord's condition."

"I have heard enough," His father spoke in the same strained whisper as before.

Hadrian glanced over at his father and waited, not sure how he would react. Even Lucius stayed silent as they both waited for the Dark Lord to speak.

"The boy is right," Voldemort murmured, "We do not have another choice."

"But my lord, despite all his training, he's only a boy. He's barely old enough to tie his own laces, let alone lead an entire army," Lucius pointed out, "He isn't ready."

"Then make him ready, Lucius," the Dark Lord hissed, "This is our only option at this time." There was a moment of silence before he asked, "What of Destiny?"

Hadrian swallowed uncomfortably, "She has been dealt with, my lord."

"Good," His father said quietly, "I will have Lucius inform you of the plans we have recently discussed."

Hadrian leaned back in his seat, glad to have discussed the matter. Now that his father had given permission, he had to focus on mimicking his father perfectly. There could be no room for error, for even the slightest mistake could create a ripple of doubt across not just his father's Death Eaters, but also the entire Wizarding community.

"Hadrian," Lucius Malfoy barked, "You are dismissed. The Dark Lord needs to rest and save his strength for tomorrow."

"Of course," He nodded, rising up from his chair. He muttered a quick goodbye as he walked over to the doors, not sure if his father could even hear him at that point.

When he exited the room, he went straight to the closest fireplace and grabbed a handful of floo powder. He didn't even realize his hands were shaking until he ducked his head to get inside the fireplace and threw the floo powder to the ground, shouting, "Malfoy Manor!"

He was enveloped in a flurry of green flames before he stepped out of the fireplace in Malfoy Manor, dusting off a bit off soot that had clung to his cloak. He had initially been worried about running into Destiny, but he doubted she would've come to Malfoy Manor when Bellatrix demanded she get out. He wasn't quite sure where she had fled to, but he was honestly too furious to care at this point.

He walked up the spiral staircase, briefly registering how eerie Malfoy Manor was when it was dark and empty. He walked down the east hallway and knocked on the second door from the right, knowing that's where Draco's room was. He didn't wait for a reply before he pushed it open and marched inside.

Draco was reading a quidditch magazine in his bed and he looked up when he heard the door open. He raised an eyebrow as he watched his best friend throw himself into an armchair by his desk and kick off his shoes.

"Please, make yourself at home," Draco remarked dryly, as he got out of his bed, trying to untwist the sheets around his torso, "I'll just ignore the fact that you broke into my house."

"The Dark Lord is dead."

Draco's eyes widened and he tripped over his sheets in shock, face-planting onto the floor with a loud thud. He grunted in pain but quickly scrambled to get himself up into a dignified position. He ran to the armchair that was opposite of Hadrian and froze.

"Did you just say the Dark Lord is–"

"Well, technically he isn't dead," Hadrian interrupted his friend, "He's in some kind of hideous corpse form and can barely speak and breathe."

Draco turned a shade paler–something that Hadrian didn't realize was even physically possible at this point. He looked as though he was about to hyperventilate, and Hadrian casually pushed Draco's frozen form into the armchair across from him so he was forced to sit down.

"I don't understand–Is he–What happened–I thought Destiny said–"

"Do _not_ speak her name," Hadrian hissed, "She's a traitor."

"What do you mean?" Draco asked, cocking his head to the side in confusion.

"That little," Hadrian paused and took a calming breath, trying to control the rage that had crept back up at the sound of her name, "She knew this would happen. She knew the raid would nearly kill my father."

Draco shook his head, "That's not possible, she wouldn't do something like that."

Hadrian snorted, "That's what I thought. The worst part was, she didn't even admit she was doing it for her own benefit. She claimed she did this for _me_."

Draco looked contemplative, "Why would the Dark Lord's death _help_ you?"

He waved his hand dismissively in response, "She thinks his demise will lead to my rise to power. But I don't trust her visions anymore, not after this."

Draco shrugged, seeming to finally get over his shock at hearing about the news of the Dark Lord's condition. "Maybe she's right, Hadrian," He offered, "Maybe she wasn't being selfish. There's nothing she could get from trying to sabotage our side."

Hadrian looked at his best friend as if he were insane, "I'm taking over simply because it is what is expected of me, not because I want to. I stand behind my father, and I would never intentionally take his throne away from him."

"Of course not," Draco hurried to reassure him. He suddenly looked at his friend in bewilderment, "Did you just say you are taking over now?"

Hadrian sunk deeper into his chair, "For the time being, I am to pretend to be my father. The rest of the Wizarding World doesn't know of his current condition, and we plan to keep it that way. If anyone found out, they could try to attack us while we're weak, or even start a revolt within our own ranks. Nobody outside the inner circle is to know of the Dark Lord's accident."

Draco blinked, "Why are you telling me, then?"

Hadrian smirked, "My father's right hand man was Lucius. I assumed if you were to be mine, I'd have to be honest with you first. Even though I don't want to be the Dark Lord, I still want to make sure I keep up father's standards for when he returns."

"But what if the Dark Lord was out of the question completely? Would you still turn away the power that's been given to you?" Draco questioned.

Hadrian shot him a warning look, "Careful, Draco. You're starting to sound just like Destiny. You don't want to suffer her fate, trust me."

Draco stiffened in his seat, "Did you _kill_ her?"

"Oh god," Hadrian shook his head quickly, glaring at his best friend, "Of course I didn't kill her! Who do you think I am, Draco?"

His friend relaxed slightly in his seat, clearly relieved to hear his friend was still alive. He frowned, "I think you're the son of the Dark Lord. And now, you're the current Dark Lord! It was a perfectly reasonable question. And if you didn't kill her, then where is she?"

"Bellatrix threw her out. I'm sure she's found somewhere to stay by now. If not, I frankly don't care," Hadrian replied nonchalantly.

"She's your sister," Draco pointed out flatly, "I know that regardless of anything you say, in the end you still care about her, mate."

"No, I don't," Hadrian said forcefully, "She deserves to suffer for what she did."

Draco held up his hands in surrender at Hadrian's harsh tone, and he swallowed hard before asking, "So what now? Why are you here?"

"In the interest of staying transparent to my right hand man," Hadrian took a deep breath before saying, "I've decided to finally answer your questions from the end of last year. But whatever I reveal to you, you are not to tell anyone regardless of what happens."

Draco's jaw nearly unhinged at his words. "Are you telling me you are finally going to answer the questions I've been asking you all summer instead of brushing them off and threatening me to stay silent?"

Hadrian sighed heavily, "Yes, Draco."

"Are you a half-blood?" Draco demanded aggressively, as if he had been holding back that question for years. Knowing Draco, he probably had.

Hadrian averted his gaze, "Yes."

"Are you the Dark Lord's biological son?"

"No," Hadrian admitted, keeping his eyes glued to the floor.

"Who are your real parents?"

"Lily and James Potter."

"That's not possible," Draco choked out, "You're the same age as Alexander Potter–which would mean–" He froze suddenly as he uncovered the entire truth. "You're his twin," He gasped out. The blond ran his hands through his hair, clearly distressed by the information he had discovered, "I never thought the stories of the Chosen One's long lost twin were true, I thought he just died at a very early age like everyone said."

"I probably would've died," Hadrian confessed, "But the Dark Lord saved me from that particular fate."

"Tell me the entire story," Draco demanded, folding his arms across his chest in a position of what was supposed to be intimidation. Hadrian rolled his eyes but complied with his request. He told his best friend the true story, everything from how his entire childhood had been filled with neglect, how Dumbledore had declared his brother the "Chosen One", all the way to how his parents had dropped abandoned him in some random muggle town.

To his credit, Draco listened to everything without interrupting his friend even once. His face stayed blank, however, and for the first time in his life, Hadrian didn't have the slightest idea as to what his friend was thinking.

"So now you know I'm some half-blood, pathetic orphan who was abandoned by his own parents, I want to know if you still stand by me, after all of this. If not, you are free to leave. I won't stop you."

Draco nodded, staying silent in his seat for a while. Then abruptly, he stood up and walked towards the door, shaking his head the entire time.

Hadrian tried not to let his disappointment seep through onto his features, and he clamped down on the painful feeling that spread through his chest. He had already lost his sister, and he didn't realize how much it would hurt to also lose his best friend in the same day.

When Draco opened the door, he turned around and furrowed his eyebrows, "Well, aren't you coming? I need a drink after all this, and I think I can break into my father's liquor cabinet without him noticing. I've been practicing all summer."

Hadrian glanced up so fast, he thought he would break his neck. "What?" He asked dumbly.

Draco rolled his eyes, "Did you seriously think I would walk away from you simply because you're a half-blood son-of-the-light-bastard?"

Hadrian shrugged, "Kind of, yeah."

Draco held a hand over his heart in mock astonishment, "How dare you think that!"

Hadrian rolled his eyes, "Well, you are a publicly active blood supremacist. You hate Hermione because she's muggleborn."

"No," Draco drawled out, "I hate Granger because she's annoying and she has beaver teeth," He looked down at the floor, "I've gotten over the mud–muggleborn thing over the years. I've realized she's just irritating as a person, which is arguably worse. Now she can't blame her unappealing qualities on being a muggleborn–it's just her personality."

"Your feud with Granger aside," Hadrian said sarcastically, rising up to walk to the door, "You still want to stand by me? Why?"

"Well, you are the substitute Dark Lord, so that is a plus," Draco joked. He shifted uncomfortably under his friend's unwavering gaze and finally he sighed. "Do you remember that time in first year after you used your title to make me shut up in the library?"

Hadrian knitted his brows together as he tried to think about when that had happened, but he couldn't remember.

"Well, I never forgot that night. You said that regardless of your title or position, you'd always be my best friend before that," Draco recounted. His lips curved up into a shaky smile, "If you can put our friendship before being the fucking Dark Lord's heir, what kind of best friend would I be if I didn't stand by you just because of your heritage?"

Hadrian grinned, "We're in this together, then."

"I'm going to be honest, I don't think I could leave your side even if I wanted to, my lord." Draco confessed.

Hadrian clapped him on the back, "First of all, don't call me that, especially not in public. And all right, I get your point–you absolutely adore me. But you're laying it on a bit thick now."

"No really, I don't think I could physically ever betray you or leave your side," Draco clarified, "I signed a blood oath promising to be loyal to you, remember? I don't think you can break those things unless you want to die."


	13. Help

**A/N: Oh my god, I literally suck. I'm sorry! I've just had a rough start to the semester and writer's block certainly isn't helping. The good news is after this chapter, I have stuff already written from when I planned this story out a few years ago, so the next chapter should be up soon.**

 **Special shoutout to the one (I'm guessing it's one) Guest reviewer who has been reviewing this story every day asking me to update. Honestly, I stayed up all night to finish this chapter just for you, Guest reviewer. I felt I owed it to you. Who takes the time to do that? Thank you so much for giving me the motivation! I hope you like this chapter (it's 100% dedicated to you)**

 **I just want to say I love all you reviewers and readers and favoriters so much, and I realize I don't say it often enough. Y'all are my motivation to write more! I hope you enjoy the new chapter!**

 **Riddle Manor [August 25** **th** **]**

"Are you ready?"

Hadrian jerked in surprise at the voice, dropping the reports he had been reading on his father's desk. He glanced up, clearly annoyed at being interrupted from his seemingly stressful task.

"Draco," Hadrian nodded curtly in lieu of a proper greeting, "Do try to knock next time, unless you want to find yourself blasted back from my stunning spell."

His friend rolled his eyes, throwing himself into the chair across from where his friend was standing over the mahogany desk. The entire surface was covered with stacks of papers and open textbooks, and not one corner was left untouched.

"Sorry for not announcing my arrival properly, _my lord_ ," Draco grinned mockingly, choosing to ignore the glare his best mate directed at him. Instead he drummed his fingers on the edge of the desk and looked around with wide, curious eyes. "So, this is what the Dark Lord's private study looks like," He commented, sweeping his gaze around the large room, "I've never seen it before."

Hadrian snorted, "I've lived here my entire life and I've only seen this room a handful of times."

Draco shrugged, "Well, now it's yours for the time being," He paused, gesturing to the doorway, "I noticed you kept the doors open."

"It feels less suffocating that way. Not to mention, it got irritating having to give permission for everyone to enter. Especially since your father has been in and out at least every two hours, just 'checking up' on me," Hadrian shook his head, "Does he not think I can do this?"

The blond adjusted his collar slightly, "To be fair, you are a fourteen-year-old tasked with finding a magical process to regenerate your father's body while also leading his dark army while he recovers. Anyone would be concerned."

"I'm fine," Hadrian muttered, aggressively circling something on the sheet of parchment in front of him. He looked up to meet Draco's skeptical eyes, "I am fine," He repeated firmly.

"I can see that," Draco muttered under his breath, sounding entirely unconvinced. He cleared his throat, "Anyways, are you ready to go? Father is waiting by the floo, and Mother is already there. Aren't you excited? We've got box seats this year–right next to the Minister himself– "He trailed off, noticing his friend's vacant and confused gaze.

He sighed, "You don't remember do you?"

Hadrian slowly shook his head, too focused on reading the textbook in front of him to notice his friend's aggravation.

"Hadrian! Tonight's the Quidditch World Cup!" Draco exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air in a dramatic fashion. "We've been talking about this for the past two years. How could you forget?"

Hadrian froze, "No it's not. It can't be tonight."

His friend rolled his eyes, "Then I suppose our reservations are all wrong, the papers are all wrong, the dates printed on our tickets are all wrong, and permission for long-distance floo-use was issued all wrong–"

"I get your point!" Hadrian interrupted, frantically beginning to shove aside papers from his desk. He picked up a handful and quickly flipped through them, trying his best to read the smudged ink and wrinkled pages. "No, no, no. Where did I leave it?"

Before he could panic any further, suddenly the papers scattered across the desk tidied themselves into two neat stacks in the corner, and the textbooks that lay open haphazardly shut themselves. Hadrian stepped back in shock, simply staring at his desk as it seemed to clean itself up. Even the spilled ink that had dried on the edge of the desk scrubbed away like magic.

"In the future, do manage to keep your place of work and study neat and tidy," A familiar voice drawled from the doorway, "Organization can go a long way."

Hadrian looked up and scowled immediately, crossing his arms across his chest. "Lucius," He greeted stiffly, "Does nobody in your family knock?"

Lucius raised a pale eyebrow, deliberately raising his gloved fist to knock on the massive wooden door that was propped open. He turned back to the young man standing behind the desk and smirked derisively, "Was that to your satisfaction, my lord?"

Hadrian through his hands up in defeat but refused to respond, having been completely exasperated with the entire Malfoy family.

"What is going on?" Draco questioned, running a hand through his hair. "Why are you panicking over going to go see the match? Did you schedule a meeting during then, or something?"

"Something like that," Hadrian mumbled, "I just can't seem to find the–"

"The directives to distribute for tonight?" Lucius finished. He smiled an innocent smile, "I sent them out to the corresponding rank leaders two days ago."

"How did you even–I didn't even have it formatted properly–how could you-" Hadrian sputtered in incredulity.

Lucius sighed, leaning against the door in a position of faux relaxation, "While I admit, it was difficult trying to decipher your chicken scratch and odd notes in the margins, but the deadline was fast approaching, and I had to do something. Believe it or not, but your father actually drafted his directives in a similar disorganized fashion," Lucius paused to sneer at the younger boy across from him, "Not to the extent of your disorderliness, however, but he was similar in nature. I've spent my entire career translating your father's chaotic orders into clear instructions for our ranks. You could say I'm used to it."

Hadrian furrowed his brows. "I could've done it myself, though," He argued back, "I would've just needed a bit more time to get everything together."

"Well, you don't have time," Lucius cut him off smoothly, "The date was set for tonight and although the higher ranks already are aware of this fact, the lower ranks need the proper training and practice before we send them out into the field. You can't send them in blind. They need at least a day to prepare."

"I don't need your help!" Hadrian cried out in frustration. "I'm perfectly competent enough to do everything myself. I don't need you to go behind my back!"

Lucius narrowed his eyes and took a threatening step forward, "Do _not_ raise your voice at me. You may be the Dark Lord's heir, but _I_ still hold years of knowledge over your head. I was the Dark Lord's right-hand man for nearly my entire life. I _know_ how everything runs around here. He may have left you in control, but I still know better."

Hadrian was about to respond, but Lucius shot him a warning glare.

"You are going to listen to me very carefully," the elder Malfoy began, "If your father could have succeeded in his quest for power alone, he wouldn't have an army and we wouldn't be having this conversation right now. But even your father knows he cannot do this alone. I've offered my service and my loyalty and your father values me for that."

Hadrian rolled his eyes, "So?"

"So, Hadrian Riddle," Lucius gritted his teeth together, "It means if I offer my help, do _not_ take it for granted or fight back. Your father has thoughtlessly dropped an enormous burden on your shoulders and I can guarantee you _will_ collapse if you do not reach out and ask those around you for help. It is not a sign of weakness. My entire family and each and every Death Eater has a sole purpose of helping you bring our kind back to power again. We are not helping you because we think you're incompetent, we're doing it because we invested our trust in you."

"Mark my words, Hadrian," Lucius pointed a finger at him insistently, "Do not try to go about this alone. Do not try to isolate yourself. It will only destroy you from within."

Draco nodded, "Yeah, mate, we're here to help you kick some arse."

Lucius wrinkled his nose, "So eloquently put, son."

Hadrian cracked a smile at that and hesitantly stood up from his seat, striding over to where the elder Malfoy stood. He cleared his throat, "So what do you suggest I do now, Lucius?"

Lucius shrugged elegantly, already beginning to walk out the door, "Since the directives have all been sent out and Bellatrix has overseen their training for the past few days, I'd say the only thing left to do is show up and wait."

Hadrian followed behind him with a hidden grin, with Draco quickly on his heels. As they reached the designated fireplace that would take them to their intended location, Draco stopped suddenly.

"Wait, what exactly were you two talking about?"

"It's kind of complicated to explain," Hadrian hedged, reaching for the floo powder.

Draco held up a hand, "Fine. Just tell me when we get there, we're already late as it is."

Hadrian agreed, scooping up the powder in his hands and stepping into the fireplace. He waved with his free hand and shouted his destination, throwing the floo powder onto the ground.

He was instantly coughed out of the fireplace, and he emerged without a spec of ash clung to his robes, to his pleasure. He glanced around at his surroundings and whistled softly.

The Malfoy tent seemed like an oxymoron, for any property the Malfoy's attached their name to was nothing short of the opulence of a castle. The "tent" was magically enhanced to seem like a luxury flat, complete with a modern looking fireplace and grand piano in the corner.

There was a hard to miss chandelier just dripping with crystals hanging from the high-ceiling, and a spiral staircase wrapped itself around to lead to an upper level of the tent. Hadrian assumed the bedrooms would be upstairs and just from a brief glance, he already counted five doors.

His observations were cut short when Draco and his father soon stumbled in after him. While Lucius immediately headed upstairs, mumbling something about needing some peace and quiet before the match, Draco dusted the soot off his robes and smiled widely.

"You will not believe who I invited to watch the match with us–"

Before he could even finish his sentence, the doors to the tent swung open.

"Surprise!" Daphne and Hermione shouted, coming into the tent with matching bright smiles.

Daphne threw her arms around Hadrian's still frozen form, squeezing his shoulders lightly as she whispered, "I'm delighted to see you again, Hadrian. But I really need to talk to you before school starts." She kissed his cheek lightly, not noticing the tense expression that appeared on his face.

Hadrian quickly rearranged his features into a wide grin when he pulled away from her, "Well, I'm sure we'll have some time before the game." He turned to his friend with a meaningful look, "Draco, can I talk to you for a second? You two can stay in the tent, we'll bring back some food and then we can catch up."

He didn't wait for a response as he dragged Draco away from the tent, and they began to walk through the array of vendors and stalls that were set up. Draco raised an eyebrow, "What was that?"

"Are you an idiot? Why did you bring the girls here?" Hadrian snapped, glancing around to make sure no one was listening.

"Well, Blaise and Neville are here somewhere. Destiny was supposed to come before… you know. I don't see why Daphne couldn't come," Draco shrugged, "And then Daphne said she'd only come if Granger came–you know how girls are, always traveling in a pack." His eyes narrowed suddenly.

"I even invited Granger! Isn't this what you wanted? For me to be less hostile towards our resident muggleborn?"

Hadrian rubbed his temples in frustration, "And you had to pick _today_ , of all days, to do that?"

Draco furrowed his brows and crossed his arms, "Why? What's wrong with today? I don't understand what's the big deal. I thought Daphne would like the company."

"Because," Hadrian drawled out, lowering his voice, "We've planned a raid for tonight, just to show everyone that the Dark Lord is still alive and well. _That's_ why the girls can't be here today."

Draco looked confused, "But he _isn't_ alive and well. Isn't he in some body-less, magical coma type situation right now?"

Hadrian sighed, "We can't have the Order thinking our side weak, now that the Dark Lord is the equivalent of a rotting vegetable. They might plan an attack we're not prepared for. We have to make them think that the Dark Lord is still perfectly capable of organizing terror."

Draco's eyes widened, "So what do we do? We can't just send them back without explanation, they just got here!"

"What do _we_ do?" Hadrian repeated with an incredulous expression, " _I'm_ going to be busy with the raid. Since _you_ invited them, _you're_ going to make sure the girls stay safe all night," He smiled mockingly, "I don't want a single hair to be harmed on their pretty little heads."

"But Granger, she's a muggleborn!" Draco hissed, "What am I supposed to do if–"

"Figure it out," Hadrian said bluntly, "I have much more pressing matters to deal with, and I can't add the constant worrying about their safety to the list."

"Fine," His friend grunted. "I'll try my best to keep them safe."

Hadrian stared him down and shook his head, "No Draco. You _will_ keep them safe. You _will_ keep them out of tonight's events. I need a promise."

"Fine! We won't even leave the tent." Draco exclaimed. He rubbed his temples in annoyance, "But honestly, did you have to pick tonight? I wanted to focus on the match and now I have to run through protection spells in my head!"

Hadrian scoffed, walking up to the closest vendor, "I'm so sorry I didn't check with your schedule, Draco. I'll do that next time," He turned back give his friend a pointed look, "Now do you want one treacle tarte or two?"

* * *

By the time they made it back to the tent, Blaise and Neville had already arrived. Neville was playing a game of chess with Daphne by the fire and judging from the frustration that seemed permanently etched on his face, he seemed to be losing spectacularly. Blaise was watching the game with amusement clear in his eyes, although it seemed his ultimate purpose was to hurl insults at Neville anytime Daphne made a particularly stellar move.

"Welcome back. Did you two get lost or something?" Hermione raised an eyebrow, rising up from where she was reading at the dining table.

Blaise nodded, walking over to where they were standing, "Yeah mate, you two have been gone for almost an hour."

"In our defense, we weren't sure what you would like so we brought a bit of everything and then got sort of lost on our way back," Hadrian justified. He set the boxes he was carrying onto the dining table with a loud thud.

Draco followed his example and also set his bags of food onto the glass table. He glanced at Hermione with a raised eyebrow, "Really? _This_ is the one time you choose to wear my esteemed house's color? When it's associated with bloody Ireland?"

Blaise threw an arm around Hermione and tugged playfully on the emerald green and white scarf wrapped around her neck, "Wow Granger, if I knew Slytherin green looked this smashing on you, I'd have demanded you switch houses a long time ago."

"What's wrong with Ireland?" Hermione demanded hotly, slapping Blaise's hands away from her scarf. She could feel her magic prickling angrily at the mere sight of the blond git.

"Nothing, Draco's just in love with Bulgaria's seeker," Daphne quipped, from her spot by the fireplace. "Haven't you seen the posters in his room?"

"Who's their seeker?" Hermione asked, trying to seem interested despite her utter confusion of the entire sport.

"Viktor Krum," Daphne breathed in clear admiration, "I think he's the youngest seeker who plays professionally. He's close to our age, actually. And he's pretty fit too." She winked.

Draco frowned, "Forget that, have you seen his stats? I'm quite sure he's the fastest flier I've seen in my life. And I know he's never lost the snitch during a game. Nobody can even come close to beating his record. During the semi-finals match, he caught the snitch in less than seven minutes! Seven! Can you believe it?"

"Careful Malfoy, you have a bit of drool," Hermione gestured to the side of her mouth, not even trying to hide her amusement.

"And, checkmate," Daphne declared smugly, interrupting any insult Draco was getting ready to hurl back at Hermione. She got up from the game she was playing with Neville and walked over to where the rest of her friends were gathered around.

Neville stared unblinkingly at the chessboard in front of him, completely blindsided at her abrupt win. He shot up from his cross-legged position and pointed an accusing finger at her.

"You cheated!" He cried out, "There's no way you could've won that fast!"

Daphne shrugged delicately, "Neville, just because your chess abilities seem to have deteriorated over the summer does _not_ mean I cheated."

Neville sat down angrily at the dining table, grabbing a fork and opening a random box of food. He barely glanced at it as he shoved it into his mouth, clearly irritated with the entire situation.

"I still think you cheat," He grumbled, "There's no way you can beat me every single time."

"I think that's exactly what she's been doing, mate," Blaise chuckled, slapping Neville on the back. Neville nearly choked on his food and burst into a sudden coughing fit. He made a series of hacking noises and his eyes watered before he managed to swallow hard and clear his airway. He glared at Blaise, and the black-haired Italian immediately looked away and whistled innocently.

"Oh good, you're all here," A melodic voice spoke, and everyone simultaneously turned their heads to look up at the staircase. Narcissa Malfoy made her way down, looking extremely out of place for a quidditch match. While everyone else wore their chosen teams colors and atrociously large hats and scarves–Blaise had even gone as far to paint the Irish flag on his face–Narcissa Malfoy wore dazzling robes of pale blue, with a matching spotless fur coat around her shoulders. Her hair was pinned up in an elegant fashion and she walked gracefully over to the group in her high heels.

"Are you ready to go, children? Your father was quite adamant we arrive early, and we leave early to avoid all crowds," She said softly.

"We just got back, mum," Draco complained, taking a bite of his deep-fried pumpkin pasty. "I'm so hungry!"

Narcissa shrugged delicately, "Well, if you'd rather we be late and stuck in the lines in the heat, then alright, finish your snack." She wrinkled her nose, "Though that could hardly be classified as even a snack. It just seems like oil."

Her son grumbled under his breath. Narcissa smiled and greeted the rest of the group, before her eyes zeroed in on Hermione. She smiled wider, "And who might you be, dear?"

Hermione flinched slightly. Even she knew that having the full attention of Narcissa Malfoy was no small thing. When she felt Daphne nudge her shoulder, Hermione hesitantly said, "My name's Hermione Granger."

Narcissa glanced back at Draco and raised an eyebrow, "Oh, so this is the 'Granger' you talk about all the time?"

Draco choked on his pastry while Hermione turned an interesting shade of red.

"Mother!"

Narcissa shook her head, "Hush Draco," She turned to look at Hermione apologetically, "I'm afraid I'm going to have to apologize for my son's manners. He has a tendency to be quite… argumentative. I hope he hasn't been too horrible to you."

Hermione found herself shaking her head, "Not at all, Lady Malfoy. He just comments on my hair a lot."

Narcissa looked at her with a critical eye, "Whatever for? Your hair makes you different. It's refreshing to see curls as vibrant as yours in our world. Most pureblood girls don't have your kind of hair." Narcissa noticed Hermione falter slightly, and so she quickly hurried to add, "Not that being muggleborn is a problem either. As long as you embrace our culture, we'll embrace you."

"Thank you," Hermione said quietly, already charmed by the Malfoy matriarch.

Narcissa turned to her son, "Now Draco, I don't want to hear any word of you teasing this poor girl. It's childish and quite rude."

Blaise grinned, "Lady Malfoy, can you tell Draco to stop snarking at me too? He's been so irritable lately."

Draco put his pastry down with a huff, "Yeah, yeah, go tattle to my mother. You know what, we don't even have to go to see the match tonight, because I've already caught the snitch," He paused and glared at Hermione. "Snitches," He amended.

"Draco!" Narcissa admonished. She shook her head in disappointment, choosing to save the tongue-lashing for later. "Come along everyone, we should get going before this one starts acting up again." She strolled over to the doors, and they all began to wordlessly follow her. Hadrian patted Draco's back sympathetically, while Daphne hung back to exchange conspiring glances with Hermione.

"That looked like a Narcissa Malfoy stamp of approval," Daphne whispered excitedly, "She never approves of anyone! It took almost an entire week for her to warm up to me!"

"Really?" Hermione bit her lip, "I know I'm not a pureblood but–"

Daphne waved her hand dismissively, "Lady Malfoy doesn't care about that. Blood purity is more of Draco and Lord Malfoy's area. She cares far more about manners and etiquette than blood. You should see her around Pansy."

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked, careful to follow behind the group but keep a distance away so their conversation could go unheard.

Daphne grinned, "One year, Pansy wore an incredibly revealing dress to the Malfoy Christmas ball. When Narcissa saw her, she basically tore Pansy apart, but in such a classy way that Pansy didn't even realize it. The girl actually _thanked_ her in the end because she thought that Lady Malfoy was complimenting her."

Hermione inhaled sharply, "That sounds scary."

"No, it's absolutely brilliant!" Daphne corrected, "She's honestly an iconic figure in the pureblood society. Every woman wants to be Narcissa Malfoy."

Hermione looked at Lady Malfoy with a renewed admiration, "It doesn't seem like any woman can be."

* * *

"That was such a good game," Neville gushed, walking back from the stadium with his hands full with muggle popcorn and fairy floss. He looked back at the group with wide eyes, "At one point, I didn't even know which team to cheer for! They were both so amazing."

Daphne nodded excitedly, "When Troy scored that first goal, I _knew_ Ireland would win," She shook her head in mock sadness, "Even Viktor Krum couldn't salvage the match. What a shame. But he did look quite smashing in those scarlet robes."

"Well, if only quidditch matches were won by who Daphne Greengrass finds the most fit," Draco sneered, angrily tossing his Bulgaria hat onto the ground and kicking it to the side. "Stupid Ireland," He muttered under his breath. "Can we just hurry up and get back to the tent as fast as possible?" He glanced around nervously.

"Cheer up, mate," Blaise patted his friend's back, "At least Bulgaria wins the award for having the best mascots." He shared a lecherous grin with Neville and ducked before Hermione slapped his head.

Hermione frowned at him, "I personally find it degrading they used those women like that. Who were they anyways? They didn't seem _human_. I practically had to hold you back because you almost threw yourself out the window when they did their little dance."

Blaise flushed slightly at that, "I did not! Besides I couldn't help it! They're Veela, I think. They have some weird, magical effect on men. They got Neville too!"

Neville scoffed, "I wasn't as obvious as you were. I was only mildly affected, and I barely got out of my seat. You on the other hand, ran up to the window and pressed your face against the glass."

Draco smirked, "I'd like to point out that I didn't even move. _My_ mind is strong enough to resist their charm."

Hermione rolled her eyes, "You're not that special. Hadrian didn't react to their weird charm either."

Daphne smiled. She glanced around and furrowed her brows, "Where is Hadrian, anyways?"

"Oh, he stayed behind so my father could introduce him to some people. You know, there's no age too young to get into politics and everything," Draco said, a bit _too_ smoothly.

Daphne nodded, absentmindedly thanking Blaise as he opened the door of the tent for her. She grabbed a muffin from the dining room table and made her way to the couch, with a frown still on her face. Lady Malfoy went upstairs shortly after they arrived, claiming the need to rest after such a busy day.

Draco sat down next to her on the couch and looked at her curiously, "Why do you look so confused?"

"Something seems off," Daphne murmured, avoiding his gaze. She watched Blaise start arguing with Neville and Hermione about something insignificant, and she lowered her voice, "Destiny told me something."

Draco stiffened, "Oh?" He asked. "When did you see her? I thought she was at divination camp."

She looked at him as though he were stupid, "Really? Divination camp? _That's_ the best excuse you could come up with?"

"What do you mean?" He laughed nervously, "She's at–"

"Draco," Daphne pursed her lips, "I know she's not at divination camp."

"How could you possibly know that?"

"Because she's been staying at my house for the past week, you dolt!" Daphne huffed, crossing her arms across her chest. "And you better not bring up the rubbish divination camp excuse to everyone else, I already told them Destiny was on vacation with her family."

"Vacation," Draco's eyes widened, "Why didn't I think of that? So simple."

"And you call yourself a Slytherin," Daphne rolled her eyes. "Anyways, I want to know why she owled me at four in the morning and only brought half a suitcase to live with me until school starts. She's been so secretive about it, I can't get a word out of her."

"You're going to have to ask Hadrian that one," Draco dodged the question, "I don't even know the answer to that.

Daphne eyes him for a second, "You're lying. But that's not my main concern right now. It was something she said before I left today that really worried me."

"What did she say?

"She told me to be careful. Stay inside. And to keep an eye on Hermione."

"Huh, that is cryptic," Draco muttered. He looked over at Hermione and noticed her getting red in the face, a telltale sign of her aggravation. Her argument with Blaise and Neville seemed to get more heated, and he furrowed his brows.

"What's going on over there?" He called out. All three of them froze for a second. Neville and Blaise glanced over at him, but Granger looked down at her feet and flushed an even darker shade of red.

"Nothing," Blaise yelled back, nudging Neville in the ribs. Neville scowled but quickly agreed with his friend's statement.

Draco looked at them suspiciously but turned back to his conversation with Daphne. "You were saying something?"

Daphne sighed, "I just wanted to ask you if you knew anything. Why should I be careful and stay inside. What is going on? Is Hermione in trouble?"

"I don't think so," Draco mumbled under his breath. He grunted as he heard the argument in the background get louder and he rose from the sofa to glare at them.

"Oi, what are you arguing about so loudly?" He demanded to know.

"None of your business, Malfoy!" Granger shouted back at him, somehow still avoiding looking in his direction.

"See, this is what I'm talking about. The whole surname name-calling thing! It makes perfect sense if you think about it!" Blaise pointed out.

"Shut up, Blaise! I don't want to hear another word!"

"He's right, I've noticed it too!" Neville backed him up, "I think you–"

"Stop!" Hermione yelled, "We are not having this conversation. I never have and never will so can we please stop talking about this! Will you stop meddling! We don't–"

"Sure you don't," Blaise snorted.

"I'm leaving," Hermione warned him. "I am not going to stand here and listen to another second of this."

"You can't leave," Draco blurted out suddenly, quickly walking over to where the trio stood. "Don't go outside."

"See, Hermione. Draco said _you_ can't leave. He wants you to stay here," Neville grinned, "We were right all along."

"You," Hermione turned to the blond with angry eyes, "Don't tell me what to do. And stop messing around, we all know you hate me, so just leave me alone."

Draco held up his hands in an effort to calm her down, "Okay, Granger, can you relax, I'm not telling you to do anything. Just… it's better for you to stay inside. Can you just trust me on that?"

"Yeah, Hermione. Trust him," Blaise snickered.

"I'll do what I want," Hermione seethed. Draco saw her intention in her eyes before she even moved, and so he was only two steps behind her when she dashed out of the tent at an impressive speed.

"Dammit, Granger would you just listen to me for once in your life!" Draco yelled, running after her out of the tent.

Daphne ran to Blaise and Neville and asked, "What was that?"

Blaise shrugged, "We were just teasing her by saying she and Draco were hiding their all-passionate love for each other. We weren't being serious, we just like making her mad. Her hair gets frizzy and it's funny."

"We might've taken it too far, but it was just a joke," Neville rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, "I didn't really expect her to react _that_ badly."

"You idiots!" Daphne groaned, running outside to go after her friends. She took one step outside and immediately stopped in her tracks, her jaw dropping open at the scene in front of her. and Neville followed her out the tent and nearly crashed into her frozen form, almost causing her to topple over.

The once grassy campground area was now barren and scattered with small fires in the distance. There were people screaming and spells flying everywhere around them, and Daphne quickly realized their entire tent had been cloaked in a silencing spell so they would be oblivious to what was going on outside.

Daphne let out a silent gasp when she saw Death Eaters running around freely with their wands out. They were making a public spectacle of cursing the people outside, and Destiny's warning from earlier slowly began to make sense. She winced as she saw a Death Eater slice open a man's throat, and she averted her gaze. From the corner of her eye, she made out Draco's pale blonde hair and without thinking, she immediately chased after him, briefly registering Blaise and Neville following behind her.

"What the fuck is going on?" Neville panted as they ran towards Draco.

"Look at them. They aren't purebloods. They're attacking all the muggleborns and maybe even the half-bloods," Blaise noted grimly, "We need to find Hermione."

When they reached Draco, thankfully Hermione was right beside him. She looked paralyzed by fear, and she didn't even seem as though she was registering anything Draco was saying to her. Unfortunately, just as they arrived, a small group of three Death Eaters arrived right behind them.

"Well, what do we have here?" One of them spoke. He had a deep, sinister sounding voice, and Daphne took a step back automatically out of fear.

"My name is Draco Malfoy," Draco said in a shaky voice, holding his wand up with an even shakier hand. "Leave us alone. We don't want any trouble."

The Death Eater looked at the other two and laughed, "Did you hear that? He doesn't want no trouble!" The other two Death Eaters both joined in on the laughter and their leader stepped closer and growled, "If you're really a Malfoy, then why are you out here with trash like that mudblood?"

"I said, leave us alone," Draco repeated, his voice sounding firmer than before.

"And what are you going to do if we don't?" Their leader said darkly, "After all, one of you doesn't belong, and we have to fix that don't we?"

Draco glanced at his friends and they immediately pulled out their wands, wordlessly moving to stand around Hermione protectively. He glared back at the group of Death Eaters threateningly, "Trust me, you don't want to mess with us. It'll be your heads on the line."

Their leader shrugged, "We don't want to hurt you kid, maybe you are telling the truth about being a Malfoy. We just want the girl. She's obviously a mudblood, I can smell her dirty blood from a mile away." He stepped closer, "Just give us the girl, and we'll leave you alone."

"I'm afraid I can't do that," Draco snapped, "Now leave."

"I don't want to fight you for a mudblood but–" He abruptly whipped out his wand and shouted a spell in Draco's direction.

Before the man could finish his spell, there were a handful of spells that were fired off and launched at him and the rest of the Death Eaters.

"Protego!" Daphne screamed, conjuring up a shield wide enough to cover her friends. It was thin, but it seemed to do the job for the time being.

"Alarte Ascendare!" Blaise yelled, shooting a bright jet of light and hitting one of the Death Eaters square in the chest. The Death Eater shot into the air and smacked down onto the ground a few seconds later, cracking his head on the ground. He groaned and fell over onto his back, instantly disabled.

Draco raised his wand and shouted, "Bombarda Maxima!" followed with a confringo spell.

A large explosion came out of his wand, blasting the few remaining Death Eater off his feet and setting fire to the patch of grass across from them. Before they could come to their senses, however, Neville stepped up and cast the conjunctivitis curse, effectively blinding their leader for the moment.

"We have to go!" Draco shouted, once all the Death Eaters were rolling on the ground in pain. It was a miracle they got out of this fight unscathed, and he wanted to keep it that way. He pushed Hermione in front of him, urging her to move. To his utter frustration, she stayed frozen in place, staring at the fallen Death Eaters.

"What? Are you waiting for them to kill you, Granger? Move!" He shouted at her. When she still didn't respond, he shook his head and grabbed her hand, beginning to physically drag her back to the tent. Daphne, Blaise and Neville were quick to follow him, and they all made their way back to the tent in silence. He shoved Hermione inside and was about to enter himself when he noticed Daphne linger behind.

Draco gestured to Blaise and Neville, "Make sure Granger stays inside."

They both nodded and ran in behind her, leaving Draco outside with Daphne. The witch wrapped her arms around herself and wiped away a lone tear that had trailed down her cheek. She looked around and whispered, "What about Hadrian? He's probably still in the stadium. He doesn't know what's happening. We should help him–" She ran a hand through her hair anxiously, "We have to go help him!"

"No, he's fine," Draco said, grabbing her arm and trying to haul her into the tent, but she refused to budge.

She swept her gaze across the campground and her shoulders shook in distress, "He's in trouble, Draco!"

"Daphne, get in the tent!" Draco shouted angrily, trying to push her to the doors.

Daphne shook her head and sobbed, "No, Hadrian is still out there, we have to find him. He's in danger!"

Finally, Draco snapped and whirled her around to look at him, "Look up, Daphne."

She did, and almost fell backwards in shock. She'd only seen it a couple times before, but the Dark Mark was unmistakable as it stretched across the entire night sky, blurring out any stars there might've been.

Draco shook his head bitterly, "Do you see that, Daphne? Hadrian isn't in danger. He's the one behind all of this."


	14. Observations

**A/N: Yes I know I'm sorry its late ! I had exams for the past 3 weeks and it's been very hectic but I'm back on a regular update schedule, next chapter should be posted by May 27** **th** **! Thanks for your patience! Special Shoutout to Guest Reviewer who's been reviewing every day, holy crap you're amazing and my #1 motivation haha.**

 **Thanks for your favs/reviews/follows and I hope you enjoy this chapter! Check out my tumblr page to see a sneak peek of not the next chapter, but the next, next chapter (yes I've been planning for a while, I think you dramione fans will be EXTRA happy)**

 **Enjoy!**

 **Riddle Manor [August 26** **th** **]**

Draco Malfoy stood in front of the closed double doors, contemplating what he was going to do. He had spent most of the night and the journey back this morning organizing his thoughts and avoiding his friends, trying to determine a way to get some answers. He sighed heavily. Hadrian had promised him transparency, and that was exactly what he was going to demand.

He raised his hand to knock on the door and waited a few seconds before the doors swung open in front of him. He tried to keep his stride confident as he walked up to the desk. His best friend was hunched over the workspace, looking frustrated as ever.

Draco cleared his throat. "Are we not going to talk about what happened?" He asked quietly, resting his palms flat on the desk and leaning forward.

Hadrian didn't even look up from the notes he was writing. "Draco, I'm kind of occupied with something else."

Draco folded his arms across his chest, "Don't you think I deserve some answers?"

"I don't know what you're referring to," Hadrian muttered, keeping his eyes trained on the open book in front of him.

His friend reached over the desk and slammed the book shut, effectively startling Hadrian from his concentration. Hadrian frowned at the disruption and a dark look came into his eyes before flickering away almost instantaneously. He clasped his hands above the table and leaned back in his chair.

Hadrian raised an eyebrow, "What is it?"

Draco shook his head, "How can you sit there and pretend like nothing happened? Did you not see what I saw last night? It was a massacre."

Hadrian snorted, "Don't be so dramatic, Draco. I'll admit, it did get a bit…out of hand, but everything went according to plan,"

His friend sputtered upon hearing this, but Hadrian continued on as if he hadn't heard anything, "The Order believes the Dark Lord was behind it. Any doubts of the Dark Lord being defeated have been put to rest. I'd say last night was a success."

"A success?" Draco repeated in disbelief. He pulled out a copy of the Daily Prophet and slapped it on Hadrian's desk. The headline " _He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named launches terror attack in aftermath of Quidditch World Cup_ " stood out prominently in bold text on the front page. There were a few blurry pictures of lifeless bodies lying around to accompany the massive headline.

"Do you call this a success?" Draco demanded. "Was this all part of the plan?"

Hadrian rolled his eyes, "Look, it wasn't part of the plan. All the Death Eaters were instructed to do was march around and spur some fear in people, not actually attack them. They were just supposed to cast the dark mark and leave after destroying a couple tents and stands, or something."

"Then how did this happen?"

Hadrian shrugged, "They got out of control. We didn't really have many days to prepare and I never gave them direct orders on what they could or couldn't do. They decided to do things their way."

"Hadrian," Draco began carefully, "I don't really think this is the right way to go about creating the illusion that your father is still alive. It's unnecessarily brutal and it's just mindless violence. There isn't really a purpose. It isn't right."

Hadrian smiled, standing up from his seat to pull another book from a nearby shelf. He ignored Draco's confused look and continued smile absentmindedly, even as he sat down and began to flip through the pages.

"What is so amusing?" Draco snapped finally.

His friend glanced up at him and Draco was taken aback at the sudden cold look in his eyes.

Hadrian shook his head and chuckled darkly, "I'm sorry to inform you, mate, but the only person whose approval matters to me is my father. This was his plan, after all. And I don't care what you think of his plan. Since he is pleased, I'm pleased. Do you understand now?"

Draco stayed frozen in his seat, too stunned to respond to his friend's harsh words.

"If that's all then, I'd like to go back to my work. I trust you can see yourself out?" Hadrian didn't wait for a response as he turned back to the stack of parchment in front of him, his work gaining his full attention once more.

 **Potter Manor [September 1** **st** **]**

Lily Potter had developed a very unladylike habit of pressing her ear against the door of her husband's study and listening intently to the heated conversations on the other side of the wall. There was once a time when she and her husband shared everything with each other, but things had changed. There were just too many secrets between them, Lily was sure. Who knew what her husband hid behind his bright, roguish smiles? Who knew what he hid behind her back?

Once upon a time she might've cared about the apparent distance between them. She would've suggested they take a romantic weekend for themselves, or go to therapy, or even just spend more time together. But as of late, Lily found herself unwilling to care about anything concerning her husband.

Sometimes James would come home when the darkness of the night bled into the early hours of the morning and claim he was at the office even though she could smell the firewhisky on his breath as he kissed her forehead–but she didn't care about that.

Sometimes they would suffer in silence through multiple dinners, barely looking at each other as they ate their respective meals–but she didn't care about any of it anymore.

As far as she was concerned, James could do whatever he wanted at this point. Because Lily knew despite all the secrets he concealed from her, her own secrets were far worse than anything he could possibly reveal.

For a few months, Lily had felt incredibly guilty about hiding the fact that Harry was still alive from her husband. She had tried to casually look for Harry without raising anyone's suspicions, but her search had turned up empty-handed. She was sure Sirius knew where he was, but it wasn't as though she could contact him. The Ministry was probably placing tracking charms on any owls sent to her husband's ex-best friend.

Her son could be anywhere, but Lily was just overjoyed knowing that he was alive after all these years. She would find him and bring him home, back where he belonged.

But even if she did find him, she couldn't risk having her husband send Harry away _again_. She steeled her shoulders back and shook her head in determination. This time, if James tried anything of the sort, she'd go with Harry. She wasn't leaving him behind ever again.

There was a loud shout from the other side of the door, and Lily jumped back in surprise, bringing her thoughts to an abrupt halt. She pressed her ear closer into the door and tried to hear the muffled voices on the other side.

" _He's alive, James! I saw him! With my own two eyes!"_

Lily identified the voice as Remus Lupin, one of her close friends since her Hogwarts days. From the tone of his voice and the raised volume, Lily realized her friend was incredibly angry about something.

" _We are done discussing this, Lupin! I don't want to hear another word!"_

" _He's your son, James! Don't you care that Harry is alive?"_

Lily gasped, quickly covering her mouth with her hands. Her eyes widened as she realized they were talking about her son. _Her_ Harry. How did Lupin know her son was alive? Had he seen him? Judging from their voices, it seemed as though James and Remus had had this argument several times before already. She leaned back against the door, desperate to get any more information.

" _You were nearly dead, Lupin! You were hallucinating! My son has been dead for years! I heard it from Dumbledore himself! If he were alive, he would be at Hogwarts!"_

" _But he is at Hogwarts!"_

Lily could practically imagine Remus throwing up his hands in frustration as he yelled at her husband.

" _Are you saying Dumbledore lied to us?"_

" _No, James, I'm just saying perhaps he was wrong! He made a mistake! Your son is alive, why won't you just listen to me?"_

" _Because, that's not possible! He's dead. If he was at Hogwarts, don't you think he would've sought us out by now?"_

" _Why would he come back? You left him to die, James! Neither Lily nor I completely agreed with this ridiculous plan you and Albus came up with, but you went through with it anyways! Of course, he wouldn't come back to you because you and Lily abandoned him in the first place!"_

Lily felt her heart clench at Lupin's words. It was all true. They had left him to her sister's family, and that was as good as death. Even an orphanage would've been better than leaving him with that dreadful cow. Petunia hated magic, how else would she react when she was forced to take care of her magical nephew?

" _Lupin, you didn't see Harry. Why would my son be in the forbidden forest at such an hour, with you? Do you remember him entering the forest with you?"_

" _No."_

" _Do you remember him exiting the forest with you?"_

" _No."_

" _Do you even remember what he was doing when you saw him?"_

" _No."_

" _Then how do you know you weren't hallucinating?"_

" _Because it felt real, James! I looked straight into his eyes and I felt the same feeling I felt when I looked into Harry's eyes when he was just a tot. I know it was him!"_

" _So, you want me to accept my son is alive and well, just based on your 'feelings'? Have you gone mad? Think about Lily, mate. If I tell her that Harry is alive based on your … hallucinations, that will get her hopes up. What if he's really dead, Remus? It will crush her all over again. I don't think she'll recover from that this time."_

There was a long moment of silence during which Lily tried to steady her breathing and keep her head clear. James was right. If she went looking for her son and found out he was _truly_ dead, it would crush her again.

But if there was even the slightest chance of Harry being alive, Lily knew she had to look for him. And if Remus thought he saw her Harry at Hogwarts, then she would go to Hogwarts. She had to bring her son back home.

With her mind being made up, Lily stepped away from the door and rushed down the hall in Potter Manor. She ran up the marble staircase and into her bedroom, immediately walking over to her desk.

Once she had finished writing her letter, she called for a house elf.

Lily smiled warmly at the house elf when it arrived, holding out the letter in her hands. "Bitsy, I need you to send this to Headmaster Dumbledore, please.

"Bitsy will find an owl right away, Miss!" The house elf squeaked in response, disappearing in a flash.

Lily smiled wider and walked over to her closet. She flung open the double doors and grabbed her trunk from the top shelf. She randomly grabbed some robes from her closet, blindly throwing them into her trunk without care.

That's how her husband found her about an hour later, stuffing her belongings into her trunk and trying to get the latch closed after all the clothes and books she had crammed into it.

"Lily," He began cautiously, sweeping his eyes around the mess his wife had made around the room, "What are you doing?"

Lily glanced up, startled. She shrugged nonchalantly as she returned her attention to the trunk in front of her. "What does it look like James?" She replied, not even looking up from her task, "I'm going to Hogwarts."

James froze, "Why would you want to do that, darling?"

Lily blew a strand of red hair out of her face and rolled her eyes, "I'm a professor, James. You didn't think I was going to stay home, forever did you? It gets a bit boring, especially when both you and Alexander aren't here."

She looked up suddenly, "Speaking of which, can you tell Alexander to hurry up with his packing? We're going to miss the train."

"Lily, you didn't even consult me on this decision–you can't just–"

"James," Lily said in a firm voice, fixing him with an unwavering stare, "I'm going to Hogwarts. This is not up for discussion."

"But Lily–"

"If you're done, I'd like to go back to my packing," Lily cut him off, "I only have an hour before we have to leave for the station."

 **Hogwarts Express [September 1]**

As soon as Daphne entered their usual compartment on the train, she knew her friends all seemed different. There was certainly something strange about Hadrian. She couldn't quite pinpoint what it was, especially since he seemed completely normal on the surface. He stood up when she had walked in and greeted her warmly, kissing her cheek and causing her to blush darkly. He had put away her trunk for her, despite her protests that she could do it herself. He had joked around with Blaise and teased Hermione.

In fact, she wouldn't even know anything was amiss if Destiny hadn't spent the past few weeks at her home. Daphne wasn't sure what Destiny had done, but from what she gathered, it had made Hadrian furious. Those two were still not on speaking terms. Destiny had even refused to sit in the same compartment as them, for fear of Hadrian's reaction.

Daphne pursed her lips and glanced at Draco, who for the first time was oddly silent. He seemed to be avoiding Hadrian as well, sitting as far away from his best friend as he could in the cramped compartment. He barely participated in conversation, and he'd barely insulted Hermione since he sat down. Since Draco certainly hadn't reformed his opinions on muggleborns overnight, she was sure his silence had something to do with Hadrian. Perhaps they'd had a falling out too.

The blond certainly seemed more cautious around his best friend, almost as though he was waiting for Hadrian to snap at any moment. Judging from the tired look Hadrian tried to conceal and the dark circles under his eyes, Daphne was sure Draco's caution was not unnecessary.

 _Come to think of it, even Hermione was acting different,_ Daphne realized. The brunette witch had her nose buried in a book as usual, but she didn't seem to be reading any of the text, just staring at it with unblinking eyes. She barely reacted to the few insults Draco had hurled at her. Usually she'd be spitting insults right back, but this time the muggleborn remained silent. Not to mention, the witch had been late. Normally, Hermione would always be the first one in the compartment, but this time she'd barely gotten onto the train before it left the platform.

The door to their compartment suddenly slid open and Daphne snapped out of her thoughts. Everyone glanced up, surprised to see Neville standing in the doorway looking slightly nervous. Daphne immediately zeroed her eyes on the hand Neville was holding at his side and she paled slightly, glancing at Hadrian for his reaction.

Neville cleared his throat, "Uh," He began, his cheeks flushing a slight shade of pink, "I have something to tell you guys–I mean–We have something to tell you."

He pulled Destiny into the compartment with him and held her hand tightly, "We're together. We've been together since the end of first year."

There was a brief moment of silence before Blaise let out a low whistle, "I knew it!" He grinned, "You were always sneaking off together!"

Draco looked between them and raised an eyebrow but did not make any other comment.

Hermione looked shocked at the news but she still smiled slightly and declared them to be a "cute couple".

It was Hadrian's reaction Daphne was most worried about, and she leaned away from his shoulder slightly to look up at him. His jaw was clenched, and his eyes had turned a dark shade of green, and it was obvious to her that he was _not_ pleased.

"Hadrian," She warned quietly, silently praying he wouldn't make a scene. She reached for his hand, but Hadrian abruptly got up from his seat.

"If you'll excuse me," Hadrian said stiffly as he stepped around Neville and Destiny, shooting them an angry glare as he exited the compartment.

They all turned to look at where he had just been sitting and Neville scratched his head in thought. He looked over his shoulder and cocked his head to the side. "I don't think he took it well," He grimaced.

"At least he didn't curse you," Blaise pointed out with a laugh.

"I really thought he might," Neville chuckled weakly, "I already casted four protection charms around myself just in case."

Destiny tugged at his Neville's hand and walked towards the compartment door, "I told you this wasn't a good idea. We should go before he comes back. I don't think he's in a good mood."

Neville grinned, "Well, you guys heard the lady. See you later mates!"

Daphne watched them disappear and she stood up as well, brushing off her skirt. She turned to look at her friends and shrugged, "Well, someone has to go after Hadrian. Make sure he doesn't break anything."

Hermione watched Blaise stand up after Daphne had left and she sighed tiredly, "Do you have a secret relationship that you have to announce too, Blaise?"

Blaise made a face at the word "relationship" and shook his head vehemently, "No, I just have to piss."

As soon as he left, Hermione felt the awkwardness settle in again. She glanced at Malfoy out of the corner of her eye and quickly turned back to her book. She was about to get up and leave the compartment, just to escape the dreadful silence, but then she felt someone staring at her.

When she glanced up, she locked eyes with Malfoy and nearly gasped in surprise.

"Granger," He began in an irritated tone, flicking his hand and causing her book to fly out of her hands and slam against the compartment door. "What is wrong with you? I've been casually insulting you and you haven't said a word back. Usually you'd be red in the face and spitting insults at me right about now."

Hermione scowled, "Leave me alone, Malfoy. I don't want to talk, least of all with you."

He rolled his eyes, "I saved your life, Granger. The least you could do is give me an explanation to your odd behavior," He paused and quickly added, "Not that I care or anything."

"Look, I'm just stressed out about… school. Yes, I'm worried about school," She repeated to herself.

Draco smirked, "Are you trying to convince me or yourself? Besides the school year hasn't even started, how can you be worried about school? I know you're a Ravenclaw, but even that's a bit far."

"Shut up, Malfoy."

"Tell me why you're acting strange, and I'll shut up," He countered.

"Look it's personal, alright. Just leave it," Hermione snapped.

"No, I want to know why you're acting different," He demanded.

"Can't you just leave me alone, Malfoy!" She yelled, crossing her arms across her chest uncomfortably.

"Not until you tell me why you're acting so jumpy and quiet! I don't even care but it's incredibly strange to insult you and _not_ get hexed or insulted back. What is even wrong with you that's made you behave so oddly? I just–"

"You're right, okay?" Hermione hissed, cutting him off mid-rant. "You were right all along."

"I usually am, but what am I right about this time," Draco said arrogantly.

Hermione averted her gaze and looked down at her feet, biting her lip. "I don't belong here," She whispered.

Draco raised an eyebrow, "What do you mean?"

"It means, I froze!" Hermione suddenly shouted at him, "It means those Death Eaters were targeting me and I _froze_. I didn't fight back. I'm not a witch! I couldn't even use magic to save my own life."

Draco scoffed, "Is that all, Granger? Look, normally I'd agree with you, but Death Eaters are scary as fuck. You've never seen what they're capable of, of course it would frighten you."

"But I froze," She repeated, staring at her hands, "I couldn't even use my wand when it counted the most."

Draco sighed, "Look, I'm not going to tell you you're the brightest witch of our age or anything, but even I have to admit you're a competent witch. You can certainly beat Potter any day. Not that he's much of a challenge. I think even Pansy could take him down."

Hermione snorted involuntarily at that.

"You've never been truly exposed to our world, the good and the bad. You don't know how dangerous it is sometimes. You froze once, understandable. But after this you need to be more prepared. Freezing twice could get you killed. I would offer to help you, but I don't want to." Draco sniffed haughtily.

She shot him a half smile, "I never thought I'd say this, but thanks, Malfoy."

He looked very uncomfortable all of a sudden and he frowned, "This does _not_ mean we're friends. To be clear, I still hope you fall off the Astronomy tower. Although maybe your hair might provide for a soft landing since there's so much of it–"

Before he could finish plotting ways to murder Hermione, her book flew across the compartment and smacked him in the head.

Draco's frown deepened as he rubbed the spot where the book had slammed into him on the back of his forehead, "What in Merlin's name was that?"

Hermione summoned the book back to her and shrugged, "You're not the only one who can do wandless magic."

* * *

"Hadrian," Daphne knocked on the door before entering the empty compartment Hadrian had apparently found. It took her almost five tries to undo the locking charms he had put on the door. Once she finally managed to undo them all, she slid open the door and gasped.

He must've cast some sort of dillusionement charm because from the outside, the compartment looked to be completely fine and orderly, however once she stepped inside she discovered the entire cabin was destroyed. The door was dented, and massive rips ran through all the seats–even the window was slightly cracked. In the middle of everything, Hadrian Riddle sat on the floor, looking eerily calm as he looked up at the ceiling.

She shook her head and pulled out her wand, whispering a soft, "Reparo."

Hadrian barely moved as she set about fixing the compartment he had all but torn apart. Once everything looked decent and had been repaired, she closed the door and tucked her skirt around herself before sitting down on the floor beside him.

"Hadrian," She tried again, "What is going on with you lately?"

When he didn't respond, she reached for his hand. Her spirits lifted a little as she felt him squeeze her hand back, but other than that he didn't acknowledge her.

"Fine, if you're not going to talk, then I will. What happened between you and Destiny? She's absolutely crushed, Hadrian. What did you say to her?"

Hadrian looked up at her suddenly and smiled, "Daphne, darling," He paused, and his eyes darkened into a cold look, "Stay out of it."

"No," She said stubbornly, "I'm not Draco or Blaise or Neville. I don't take orders from you."

"It's none of your business," He hissed at her.

"Yes, it is. She's my best friend. And you're my– "She trailed off unexpectedly, averting her gaze.

"I'm your what?" Hadrian smirked.

"Friend," Daphne stammered out, "It doesn't matter! I deserve to know why she's acting like she's been exiled and you're destroying compartments!"

"That's because she is exiled. Bellatrix kicked her out after what she did. I don't even care about her anymore."

Daphne crossed her arms, "Come on, Hadrian. Whatever she did couldn't have been _that_ bad. She's been crying nearly every day about it. Do you know how guilty she feels?"

"She should feel guilty," Hadrian growled, "She should feel ashamed of herself. And yet, she has the nerve to show up here and make me even angrier by flaunting that sordid little relationship she has with Neville?"

"Hadrian, don't you think you're overreacting just a bit– "

"She knew my father was going to be fatally injured, Daphne. And she didn't stop it and worst of all she didn't even tell me," Hadrian blurted out, running a hand through his hair.

Daphne swallowed hard at the revelation, closing her eyes. _Oh Destiny, what did you do?_

"Didn't think she'd do something to that extent, did you?" Hadrian mocked, looking up at the ceiling, "She had the audacity to pull a stunt like this and then claim she did it for _my_ benefit. How the bloody hell would I benefit from this? She's a little traitor, that insignificant, stupid cow– "

"Stop it, Hadrian," Daphne said sharply, "She's still your sister. I will not sit here and listen to you belittle her like that."

Hadrian scanned her face, "I told you what she did," He took a deep breath and the anger was visible on his face, "And you're still taking her side?"

Daphne shook her head, "I'm not taking anyone's side. But Hadrian, you haven't seen her since Bellatrix threw her out. She's barely alive. She doesn't eat, she doesn't sleep. She just sits in bed and stares out the window. She has random crying fits because she feels so guilty and she misses her family. She misses you."

"You don't know anything!" Hadrian roared, "You think her condition is bad? I haven't slept in weeks because I've had to take over for my father. I have to execute and write all his ideas into plans and research and I can't do it all! I'm tired and I don't know what the _fuck_ I'm doing anymore!"

"Hadrian– "

"No, you listen to me," He licked his lips, eyes looking crazed, "I have to listen to everything my father tells me to do, even if his ideas make no sense, just because I can't risk a rebellion in the middle of our period of weakness. If the Order knew of the condition he was in…"

"Hadrian–"

"They'd kill him. They'd murder us all and everything we've been working for would be gone in an instant," Hadrian ignored her, "I don't even know _why_ we're doing these raids, or why we had to go to the Quidditch World Cup and cause chaos, or why my father does anything, but I can never complain! I just have to work and do five hundred different things because otherwise it will all be over!"

"Hadrian!" Daphne yelled at him, grabbing his face with both her hands and forcing him to look at her. "Stop talking!"

He locked his eyes with her stormy blue ones and somehow instantly calmed down a bit, feeling his breathing slow down to an almost natural rate.

"I understand the pressure you're under, Hadrian," Daphne began quietly, "But that doesn't mean you should destroy every personal connection you have as a result. What Destiny did was terrible, but she loves you. She's your sister. Everything she's done in the past is so you could succeed. What makes you think this is any different?"

"She's– "

"No, it's my turn to talk now," Daphne shushed him. "Destiny is a Seer. Don't you think she saw the pain she would have to go through as a result of her choice to hide this from you? She probably debated for weeks or even months over this. She's willingly suffering because she _knows_ this outcome of the future outweighs any other in benefits. She knew you were going to be angry, but she'd rather take your anger than watch you not succeed."

Hadrian clenched his jaw, "That's ridiculous."

"Hadrian, you love your sister don't you?" Daphne asked.

"I _used_ to."

She ignored him and continued, "Hypothetically, if you somehow knew that Neville would turn out to be the worst mistake she had ever made, what would you do?"

Hadrian didn't even hesitate, "I'd kill him on the spot."

"Even if it meant that Destiny would hate you for her entire life?"

Hadrian stubbornly shrugged, "I suppose so. I'd rather have her hate me than make the worst mistake of her life."

Daphne smiled, "That's exactly what Destiny's logic was, Hadrian. I'm not saying what she did was right or wrong. But she didn't want to intentionally hurt you. She has the unfortunate skill of actually being able to see that perhaps this new situation would be better for you in the future. She's willing to take your anger and hatred and be in pain every day just to see you succeed. She loves you _that much_."

Hadrian contemplated what Daphne had said and finally sunk deeper into the carpeted floor of the compartment. "Why didn't she just tell me beforehand then, Daphne?" He said quietly, "She could've prepared me for this."

"She probably couldn't risk you trying to prevent it from happening, Hadrian. I know it hurt you that she did this, but I bet it hurt her more to do this to you," Daphne guessed.

He sighed, leaning his head back against the wall. "I'm tired," He admitted to her. "I don't even have time for wrecking this compartment like I just did. I should've been researching."

"I think you deserve a break, even if that means ripping apart some seat cushions," Daphne laughed.

"I have so much to do that anytime something small happens or someone questions me, I snap," Hadrian confessed, "I don't know what I'm doing."

"Is that why Draco has been sulking all morning? I think whatever you said to him, you need to apologize," Daphne said firmly.

"I know. He was just questioning my father's plan and I can't have people question it otherwise I'll start to question it. And we can't have that happening, now can we?"

"You need to let us help you, Hadrian," Daphne said sincerely, "You're the strongest wizard I know, but you need to understand that we are here for you. Don't push us away, even if you're annoyed or angry at us. Draco, Destiny, Hermione, Blaise, Neville, they're all here for you no matter what."

"And what about you?" Hadrian nudged her shoulder playfully, "I don't see you adding your name to that list."

"I'm only here for you conditionally," Daphne said very seriously, "As soon as that jawline goes, so do I." As if to emphasize her point, she tilted her head up and pressed a soft kiss against the side of his jaw.

Hadrian seemed slightly stunned for a second but then a smile slowly appeared on his face. He leaned down, moving closer to Daphne when the door abruptly slid open with a loud thud, causing them to scramble apart.

Blaise stepped into the doorway with a cheeky smile, "I'm sorry, am I interrupting something?"

"No," Daphne muttered, rubbing her elbow from where it had slammed into the seat wall behind her.

"Just wanted to let you two know that we're here! Your canoodling will have to wait! Word on the train is Dumbledore has a big announcement!"

 **Great Hall [September 1]**

"Quidditch will be cancelled for the rest of the year," Dumbledore's magically enhanced voice boomed across the Great Hall, echoing off the walls.

" _This_ was his 'big announcement'," Blaise grumbled, looking utterly brokenhearted.

"Cheer up, mate. You look sadder than when that Ravenclaw broke up with you last year because you were dating her sister at the same time," Draco laughed, remembering the two bright red hand marks that had been visible on both sides of Blaise's face last year.

"Can you blame me? Daisy and her sister were both gorgeous," Blaise sighed dreamily.

"You mean Stacy," Daphne corrected absentmindedly, taking a sip of her water.

"Right," Blaise nodded.

"I'm proud to announce that Hogwarts will be hosting a tournament with two other European schools, allowing one representative from each school to compete to win the Tri-Wizard Cup!" Dumbledore eagerly announced. Instantly the whispers and murmurs in the Great Hall spread, and Dumbledore had to get the professors to help him quiet everyone down.

"You don't seem at all surprised by this," Daphne noticed, looking at Hadrian's unmoved expression suspiciously.

He shot her a wry grin, "That's because I already knew about it. Father does have several friends in the Ministry."

She rolled her eyes, turning back to hear the Ministry official speak about the rules and guidelines for those allowed to compete. Her eyebrow raised as she heard some Slytherins down the table gossiping about how the tournament had taken the lives of students in the past.

Daphne felt relieved when she heard the Ministry official say only witches and wizards of age would be able to participate. She glanced at her friends and noted every one of them looked slightly disappointed they wouldn't be able to participate in this death tournament. At least this way she wouldn't have to worry about them somehow getting chosen for this.

"I still don't understand why this necessitates cancelling quidditch. Especially if we can't even participate!" Blaise complained.

"Are people supposed to watch the tournament or are they going to watch you play quidditch, Blaise?" Neville clapped him on the back, trying to stifle his laughter.

Blaise shrugged, "I'm just saying, if they lose focus from those idiots in the tournament and stare at my handsome self, that's not my fault." He locked eyes with a Hufflepuff girl across the room and winked at her as she giggled at him, "See, it's not my fault Felicia can't tear her eyes off of me."

"That's Heather, you dolt," Daphne leaned across the table and whispered, "I'd be careful chasing after her. Her older brother will hex you across the country if you go even five feet near her."

"Sounds like a challenge," Blaise grinned.

"Sounds like a trip to the hospital wing," Draco muttered under his breath.


	15. Champion

**A/N: Wow, y'all surprised I actually updated on time? Me too, if I'm being honest. To be clear, when I say I'm going to update on a certain day, I usually mean either 3AM ish or 8pm that day US Eastern Time. I had a lot of PMs demanding to know why I hadn't updated and "IM SORRY, I FORGOT TO MENTION THE TIME ZONE". Hope you guys enjoy this chapter! It's a bit mixed up, to be honest, mostly because I couldn't figure out how to split up the next two chapters. But hey, I updated on time so that's a plus!**

 **Again, thanks so much for reviewing and favoriting, I love you all!**

 **Defense Against The Dark Arts [September 5** **th** **]**

Hadrian watched the new DADA professor with mild interest. He'd only caught a slight glimpse of Professor Moody at the welcome feast, and he certainly looked different than the defense professors they'd had in the previous years–which was saying a lot, considering one of the professors was a full-fledged werewolf.

For one, the man had a magical glass eye that Hadrian couldn't quite tear his eyes off of. It spun around, surveying the entire room with a suspicious look–if glass eyes could even look suspicious in the first place

According to Draco, their current professor was considered to be the most famous Auror of all time. He'd caught a countless number of Death Eaters and other Dark Wizards, and Hadrian had heard his father cursing Moody a multitude of times in the past. But based on Draco's somehow endless knowledge of the gossip mill, the man was so insane in his war tactics and paranoid defense strategies that he'd earned the nickname "Mad-Eye Moody".

Hadrian didn't need any further convincing of the reasoning behind his professor's nickname when the man announced that today their lesson would be consisting of Unforgiveable Curses. His eyebrow had risen slightly at that, surprised the strictly regulated Hogwarts curriculum would allow students, let alone fourth-years, to learn about the darkest spells in the wizarding world. He smirked a little. At least the darkest spells the general population _knew_ about.

He couldn't control his incredulous expression when Moody further explained that the lesson wouldn't be reading about the unforgivables, but about experiencing them.

"But Professor Moody, I don't want to experience the killing curse," Blaise had said quite plainly, "I don't want to die. At least not before I can get Lisa Turpin from Ravenclaw to let me snog her in the Library."

"Don't be stupid," Moody had spat while the rest of the class snickered, "I'll be demonstrating the Cruciatus curse and the killing curse on these spiders," He gestured to his desk where there were indeed a few jars of spiders waiting, as though it were a much more rational idea.

After watching Moody torture and kill a few spiders, even Draco had looked slightly green in the face. Destiny bit her lip and glanced at Neville who had turned a shade of deathly white after the entire ordeal. She reached for his hand under the desk, but Neville jerked away from her. He didn't look at her the entire lesson.

Hadrian studied his nails in disinterest when the Professor walked to the front of the room and glared at the rest of the class.

"Can any of you idiots tell me what the third, and final unforgiveable curse is?" He barked, his magical eye sweeping across the room.

"The Imperius curse, Sir," Theodore Nott, another Slytherin in their year, spoke quietly, as though he were afraid of attracting any unwanted attention. As the professor kept his beady eyes trained on him, Nott hurried to add, "It lets you control someone else's mind."

"Correct, Mr. Nott," Moody grunted, "Five points to Slytherin." He leaned against his desk and crossed his arms, fixing the class with an unfriendly glare, "Today, you'll see how it feels to experience the Imperius curse firsthand."

"You can't mean you're going to cast the curse on us!" Alexander Potter squeaked, going pale at the mere notion.

"Of course, I am," Moody scoffed, "How else would you learn? When a Death Eater is making you jump off a cliff?" He shook his head and procured his wand, pointing it straight at Potter, "Now Mr. Potter, let's see if your supposed Chosen One reputation lives up to resisting the Imperius curse."

It turned out Alexander Potter could _not_ , as a matter of fact, resist the Imperius.

Hadrian watched amusedly as the boy twirled around the classroom dancing to a tune seeming to only exist in his own head. The entire class laughed as Potter sashayed and pirouetted around the room–or at least he tried to.

Daphne, who'd had intense ballet and ballroom dance training since she'd learned to walk, could barely keep a straight face as she commented, "Horrible form. He's not even _trying_ to point his toes."

Throughout the lesson, Hadrian watched most of his classmates embarrass themselves doing ridiculous things. Lavender Brown had spent an entire five minutes squawking like a chicken. Weasley had a full on mental breakdown when he was convinced he had lost his both his legs. Neville ran nearly twenty laps around the room.

Daphne was forced to sing in front of the entire classroom, but Hadrian didn't think that was too horrible, considering she had a beautiful voice.

It was only when Moody turned his magical eye on him did Hadrian tense up.

"Mr. Riddle, is it?" Moody sneered, "Are you enjoying the class today?"

Hadrian shrugged, "It's been entertaining thus far."

"Perhaps you'll feel differently you're on the receiving end." Moody smirked, "Why don't you stop reading your potions book and try it out yourself, Mr. Riddle?"

Hadrian's eyes narrowed. _Apparently, Moody's magical eye could see through textbooks as well_ , Hadrian thought wryly as he shut the potions textbook he was hiding behind his open defense textbook.

"Imperius," Moody shouted, pointing his wand.

Hadrian almost laughed. He felt the effects of the curse, of course. But ever since he'd begun Occlumency training with his father and Severus in second year, he could recognize when somebody tried to enter his thoughts or mess with his mind.

The Imperius curse was simply a curse that controlled your mind, but since Hadrian had an almost steel-like control over his mind, the curse couldn't penetrate through his mental blocks and shields, causing it to bounce back like it was a simple tickling hex and not a deadly unforgiveable curse.

He heard the tiny voice in his head telling him to crawl across the entire classroom like an infant, but it was easy enough to ignore it. It was nothing like his father's powerful imperious curse, which even he didn't have the power to resist.

Hadrian debated whether or not he should go along with it anyways, just to keep his abilities secret. He decided against it since he'd worn his favorite trousers today and crawling around the room might get a bit of dust on them. He considered making a show out of resisting the curse but decided against that as well.

In the end, Hadrian simple stayed in his seat, unmoved, staring up at the professor with a pleasant smile.

Moody frowned, and Hadrian felt him increase the power behind the curse.

Hadrian simply strengthened his mental shields in response and smiled wider. After all, his mind had faced off against the worst, he could handle something as mild as this.

"Congratulations, Mr. Riddle," Moody spoke grudgingly, finally dropping the spell, "You've somehow managed to resist the Imperius curse. Fifteen points to Slytherin."

He spun around to face the rest of the class once more and frowned, "The rest of you are not so lucky. Mr. Zabini, let's test if you can also demonstrate your friend's unusual ability to resist the curse."

 **Hogwarts Castle [October 12** **th** **]**

The entirety of the Hogwarts students and staff had gathered by the castle grounds earlier when the other schools participating in the Triwizard Tournament had first made an appearance. Beuaxbatons Academy of Magic was the first to arrive, all the way from France. They came in what seemed like a magical flying carriage, pulled by a dozen winged, silvery horses. Beuaxbatons did not appreciate the art of subtlety it seemed.

Their headmistress had stepped out of their carriage first, and Hadrian raised an eyebrow at her towering height. Draco had whispered that their Headmistress was half giant, and although Hadrian wasn't sure how his friend knew that, he definitely didn't doubt it.

The Beuaxbatons students were mostly girls, all dressed in bluish, perfectly tailored silky uniforms. Blaise seemed especially appreciative of this fact, and almost immediately pointed out four girls he declared to be the "future Lady Zabini" someday. Whether he meant consecutively or concurrently, Hadrian did not know.

The next school to arrive had been Durmstrang Institute. Hadrian hadn't even known they had arrived until somebody had shouted something about the Black Lake. When Hadrian turned to look, his jaw almost dropped, and he had to forcibly control his expression into one of indifference. A giant ship had emerged from the lake and Hadrian couldn't help but be in awe of the extreme magic that must've been layered on the ship. It had to have been intricate.

The Durmstrang students marched behind their Headmaster–a man who looked oddly familiar, Hadrian mused to himself–as they approached the Hogwarts grounds. As they got closer, he could make out their heavy burgundy cloaks and matching dragon hide boots. He knew that Lucius and his own father had seriously been considering sending him and Draco to Durmstrang, and he wondered what his life would've been like had he been in Bulgarian winters instead of the crisp English nights.

One of the Durmstrang students stepped out of the carefully structured formation behind their Headmaster, and that's when the whispering started.

"Oh Merlin, is that _Krum?"_

" _The_ Viktor Krum?"

"I don't think it's possible–"

"My gobstones, it _is_ Krum!"

Hadrian watched Draco nearly hyperventilate at the sight of his favorite quidditch player, and he quirked his lips up in amusement. The blond looked star struck at the mere sight of Krum.

In order to celebrate the arrival of the Beuaxbatons and Durmstrang students, Dumbledore had called for a massive feast. That's how Hadrian found himself and his group of friends excitedly whispering and almost shivering with anticipation at the Slytherin table as they waited for the other schools.

The Beuaxbatons girls came through the massive double doors of the Great Hall first, dancing and twirling their way up to the front. He heard several blokes sigh audibly at the sight, and once he felt the slight magic brush against his skin as they passed by his seat, he understood why. The Beuaxbatons girls had cleverly threaded in a nearly unnoticeable enchantment or Confundus charm of sorts in their little dance routine. Hadrian concealed a small smile, perhaps they _did_ appreciate subtlety somewhat.

The Durmstrang students came next, and while the entrance of the Beuaxbatons girls had been delicate and graceful, the Durmstrang students were the exact opposite. They marched in synchronization again with tall wooden sticks, twirling them back and forth and slicing them through the air rather aggressively. Anytime their sticks slammed into the ground, a small spark would be emitted.

After both schools had settled, with the Beuaxbatons students squeezing into open spots at the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw tables and the Durmstrang students taking up seats at the Slytherin and Gryffindor table, Dumbledore predictably decided to give a speech.

Which Hadrian promptly tuned out.

He glanced down the table to see were Krum was sitting with a few elder Slytherins, looking absolutely bored and he couldn't help but feel the same. Hadrian smirked to himself. This would be an interesting tournament to watch, and an even more interesting year.

That is, if he managed to get through it in the first place.

 **Great Hall [October 23** **rd** **]**

 _Hadrian,_

 _There is a book that may contain more useful information for your task, Regenerative Potions by Alistair Callahan. However, because of the controversial content and unorthodox spells it contains, the book has been banned in most countries. The only country which I believe has not completely forbidden this book is India, due to the country's magical values upholding knowledge over any "light" or "dark" bias. But, to my knowledge, even the Indian Ministry still strictly regulates this tome. The only copy of this book in Europe would probably be in the hands of the Indian Ambassador, Prakash Patil. I believe his daughters are in your year. I will try to convince him to let me see the book during one of the Ministry gatherings, but it might take some time. Stay alert._

 _Lucius Malfoy_

Hadrian carefully read over the letter that had been delivered to him earlier at breakfast once more and then wordlessly folded it in half and tucked it into his pocket. He took a sip of pumpkin juice and scanned the Great Hall.

He leaned to his right and discreetly nudged Draco's arm. "What do you know about Ambassador Patil's daughters? I can never tell them apart."

Draco raised an eyebrow, "Why do you want to know?"

Hadrian gave him an annoyed look and Draco quickly swallowed his fruit and turned around in his seat to look at the Gryffindor table. Hadrian followed his gaze to a black-haired girl laughing loudly with her friends.

"That's Parvati Patil. She's awfully pretty, but that's all she's got. Not the most intelligent creature, that one. From what I hear, she's popular but she mostly hangs out around Alexander Potter, Weasley, and that Lavender bint," Draco explained in a low voice.

Hadrian winced as she shouted about something excitedly. She was rather loud.

"What about the other one?" He asked quickly.

Draco swept his gaze across the hall until he found her sister who was sitting at the Ravenclaw table eating an apple and talking quietly with Hermione and a few of her housemates.

"The other one is Padma Patil. She's similar to her sister, just more… toned down. Personally, I think they're both superficial airheads, but at least Padma has some semblance of a brain, since she's a Ravenclaw and all," Draco shrugged.

Hadrian watched her inconspicuously for a few seconds. Padma Patil was just as beautiful as her sister–considering they were identical twins that was of no surprise–but her quiet personality certainly made her more appealing.

"You still haven't told me why you're looking into the Patil twins instead of obsessively researching like usual," Draco reminded him.

Hadrian took a bite of his toast and chewed thoughtfully, ignoring Draco's expectant look. He reached for his pumpkin juice and quickly finished the glass, standing up from the table in a fluid motion.

"I'm just in need of some information, that's all," Hadrian said absentmindedly, picking up his textbooks from the table.

"Information from the Patil twins?" His friend repeated skeptically.

"It's always nice to make new friends, Draco," Hadrian grinned as he shoved his books in his bag. "I'll see you in Charms, yeah?"

 **Great Hall [November 2** **nd** **]**

Hadrian and his friends had gathered at the Slytherin table once more as they awaited the announcement of the champions for the Triwizard Tournament. Despite his outward apathy to the situation, Hadrian was just as eager as everyone else to kick off the tournament.

His eyes lingered on the glowing Triwizard cup for a moment, watching the tendrils of blue smoke curl around the top of the cup. It was massive and demanded the attention of everyone in the Great Hall.

The age-line around the cup had prevented most of the students from entering the tournament, but it didn't stop them from trying. He tried to conceal a grin at the memory of the two Weasley twins being forcibly blasted back from the cup after using a simple aging potion to get past the magical line.

 _It was an age-old magical artifact_ , Hadrian thought to himself, _only Gryffindors could think they could outsmart the ancient magic around it._

Not that it meant his friends hadn't also tried to enter their names into the cup. Hadrian was leaning back against a column conversing with Hermione when Blaise had tried to submit his name into the tournament. Although Hermione had warned him beforehand, it certainly didn't stop him from trying anyways. It was safe to say that Hadrian was suitably amused when the cup blasted him back in a flurry of bright blue light.

From the Slytherin house, a seventh year named Cassius Warrington had successfully entered his name into the tournament. There were a few Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs who had also dared to enter the tournament, but Hadrian didn't know them that well.

He knew most-if not all-of the Durmstrang students had submitted their names. On the other hand, Hadrian could only remember a handful of the Beuaxbatons girls who had stepped up to enter their name.

Now as they all sat patiently awaiting the announcement, Hadrian couldn't help but wonder who would come out as the Tri-Wizard champion. Though the Beuaxbatons students did seem greatly talented, he wasn't sure if they could hold up against one of the bulkier Durmstrang students. He, along with the rest of his house, hoped the Hogwarts champion would be Warrington. He was a popular seventh year and incredibly talented at dueling. Hadrian was sure not even the Durmstrang students could rival Warrington's dueling abilities.

He was jolted out of his thoughts when suddenly the Tri-Wizard Cup glowed red and in a flicker of magical flames spit out a piece of flaming parchment. He held his breath as Dumbledore seized the paper from mid-air and smiled, "The Durmstrang champion is, Viktor Krum!"

The Durmstrang students clapped and shouted their support for their chosen champion, while Hadrian didn't even seem surprised. It made sense, Krum was their _star_. He watched the Bulgarian seeker roughly shake Dumbledore's hand and slink over to the Champions Room.

The cup flared up in a bright red color again and Hadrian turned his attention back over to the slip of paper that floated over to Dumbledore.

"The Beuaxbatons champion is, Miss. Fleur Delacour!"

The Beuaxbatons girls cheered and squealed with joy at the announcement. Hadrian frowned slightly as he watched Fleur stand up from her seat and elegantly walk over to Dumbledore. There was something _off_ about her.

Draco nudged his shoulder, "I heard Delacour is a quarter Veela, you know."

That would certainly explain the stares she received, and the way Blaise couldn't even tear his eyes off of her silk-clad form. Hadrian relaxed slightly when she disappeared into the Champions room.

When the third piece of paper flew out of the cup, Hadrian held his breath.

"And the Hogwarts champion is, Mr. Cedric Diggory!" Dumbledore declared, eyes shining.

Hadrian clapped politely, but he couldn't help but be a bit disappointed. Clearly the rest of his classmates did not feel the same, for the cheers around him drowned out anything the Slytherin house grumbled to each other. He didn't know much about Diggory, but he doubted the bloke could beat Warrington in a duel.

Dumbledore made a few closing remarks and encouraged everyone to enjoy the feast before he started off in the direction of the Champions room

Hadrian turned around to finally dig into his food when suddenly there were gasps around the hall. He whipped his head back just in time to see the Triwizard Cup glow red again, spitting out another slip of paper amidst its red flames.

Dumbledore stopped in his tracks and watched the parchment float toward him. He grabbed it out of the air with shaking hands and turned it over to read the name. He mumbled something under his breath that caused a few students to murmur, and Hadrian craned his neck to hear better.

"Hadrian Riddle!" Dumbledore looked up and immediately locked eyes with him, causing Hadrian to drop the glass he was holding in shock. Hadrian's eyes darted around, as his friends looked at him in surprise.

"Hadrian Riddle!" Dumbledore called out again.

He felt Daphne nudge his shoulder and he looked over at her. "Go," She mouthed, pushing him in the direction of Dumbledore.

Hesitantly, he rose from the bench with shaking legs, walking over to Dumbledore as calmly as he could. Everyone around him began whispering to each other, unsure of what was going on.

The Headmaster looked at him suspiciously over the top of his glasses and reluctantly said, "Mr. Riddle, please proceed to the Champions Room."

* * *

"Get out," Hadrian snapped at the group of Slytherin second years that were gathered around the seats by the fireplace. They all immediately scrambled up and hurried to the steps that lead to their rooms, glancing back curiously and whispering behind their hands the entire time.

Hadrian paid no attention to them and threw himself onto the common room couch that faced the massive fireplace, propping his legs on the coffee table. He stared into the flames with unblinking eyes, distantly hearing Blaise and Neville work about clearing the rest of the room.

Daphne sat down beside him, careful not to touch him, but close enough that she could feel his angry magic clashing against her own. She opened her mouth as if to say something, but quickly closed it, crossing her long legs and sitting up straighter in her place beside Hadrian.

Once the common room was emptied of all the other students, they all gathered around him expectantly. There was a long moment of silence before Hadrian suddenly kicked the glass coffee table and caused it to shatter on impact with the stone floor.

Daphne winced.

Draco was the only one who was brave enough to step forward and ask, "How did this happen?"

The resulting look Hadrian gave him was so cold, he resisted the urge to visibly shiver.

"If you want to know whether I put my name in the cup, I can guarantee you that I did not," He rubbed his temples, "I already have too much to do, why would I voluntarily throw myself into a death tournament?"

Daphne nodded, "Of course, Hadrian. We never doubted you. I think Draco meant how this could've happened if you didn't do this," She bit her lip and looked at the group contemplatively, "Could it be sabotage?"

"He doesn't have many enemies in Hogwarts," Blaise snorted, "The Hufflepuffs are besotted with him, the Ravenclaws adore him, and even most Gryffindors admire him. I don't know anyone that would do this–or anyone that could successfully pull this off."

"Maybe it's not a student then," Neville said slowly. He swallowed hard, "What if it's a teacher?"

"Like Quirrell?" Draco shook his head, "He was just a rogue death eater, an anomaly. It's unlikely something like that would happen again."

"Unlikely, but not impossible," Neville pointed out. He cocked his head to the side thoughtfully, "Do you think Dumbledore would pull a stunt like this?"

"I don't know," Daphne murmured, "He seemed rather shocked when Hadrian's name flew out of the goblet. I think he was as confused as everyone else."

Hadrian scoffed, "The old fool was nearly frothing at the mouth with anger in the Champions Room. He may not be innocent in this matter, but I highly doubt he wanted _my_ name to come out of that goblet."

"Then who else could it have been?" Draco pressed.

Hadrian stared at the way the flames from the fireplace glinted off the broken glass shards in sick fascination. He didn't tear his eyes away even when Draco repeated the question.

At Hadrian's refusal to speak, Daphne pursed her lips, "Does it even matter who it was? We're still stuck in this trap. We should be looking for ways out and other possible solutions."

"Well, the other day when Granger was being her usual swot self and talking to some bloke from Durmstrang, she mentioned the age-line was there to ensure that underage students wouldn't attempt to enter the tournament. The contract might automatically be void if the witch or wizard was not of age," Draco divulged.

"Since Hadrian isn't of age, maybe the contract is already void," Daphne followed his line of thinking. "I'll write a note to Father, he can call up our family solicitor and we'll handle this."

"That isn't how this works," Hadrian said finally, looking up at them with a grim expression. "The age line is there to ensure this exact thing doesn't happen _because_ the contract is binding. According to Crouch, as of tonight, I'm a Triwizard champion."

He sighed heavily, rising up from his seat, "I'm going to go to bed. I have to get up early tomorrow to do some work before breakfast. I suppose I'll just add this Triwizard thing to the list of things to do, then."

Daphne watched him go with unease, knowing he was already overwhelmed without adding this to his workload. _He was going to snap someday_ , she realized all of a sudden. With the way things were going lately, she wouldn't be surprised if it happened sooner than later.

She waited until he had disappeared down the stairs, counting to ten for good measure, before turning back to her friends. She got up from her seat and straightened her slightly-shorter-than-school-regulation-skirt and gracefully stepped over the shards of glass to stand in front of the fireplace, the sound of her heels on the stone floors echoing across the empty common room.

Daphne put her hands on her hips and looked at her friends pointedly, "Well, I certainly don't plan on letting him do this alone."

"What can we even do?" Blaise asked, rubbing his face tiredly, "If I could, I would volunteer to be in the tournament in his place. But no, the contract is 'binding'," He said in a mocking tone.

Daphne shrugged delicately, and her eyes softened, "I know that, Blaise. But Hadrian has been under so much pressure lately, I don't know if you all have noticed– "

"Noticed?" Neville rolled his eyes, "We've barely seen him do anything other than go to class and lock himself in his room to research Merlin knows what. He's so on edge, he almost snapped at McGonagall the other day. _McGonagall!_ "

"I know enough of what he's going through to know I never want to be in his shoes," Draco shuddered. "He's nearly killing himself trying to get everything done."

"That's why we have to help him," Daphne insisted.

"Help? I've offered my help, everyone has offered to help, and Hadrian has ignored us all. He barely accepts advice from my father. Why is he insisting on going through everything alone?" Draco demanded to know, throwing his hands in the air in exasperation.

"Hadrian isn't like us, Draco," Daphne said quietly, beginning to pace in front of the flames. "When we offer to help, it means we want to support him and ease his burden to us. But to him, it means we think he is weak. He doesn't want to be seen like that."

"But we don't see him like that," Blaise pointed out after a beat of silence. "Only a fool would label someone _that_ powerful as incompetent."

"I know that, you know that, but he doesn't see it that way," Daphne explained. "He's incredibly stubborn."

"Then how are we supposed to help him if he doesn't even want our help?" Neville questioned, absentmindedly fiddling with a loose thread on the armchair he was seated on.

Daphne leveled her gaze at him, "We're going to help him in secret. Whether or not he wants it."

"I don't know about that," Draco hedged carefully, "You haven't seen him truly angry, Daph."

She squared her shoulders back and glared at them, "I'm not scared of Hadrian. I'm helping him, even if he destroys seven more coffee tables when he finds out. I don't care about his pride. I care about _him_." Her cheeks flushed, and she quickly added, "Are you with me, or not?"

Draco looked at his two friends and after a brief second of hesitation, he nodded reluctantly. "What do we do?"

"Weekly meetings," Daphne announced, "I'm guessing whatever Hadrian is dealing with outside the tournament is not something we can help him with," She looked to Draco for confirmation. He nodded, and she continued, "Therefore everything we do from now on has to focus on the tournament. I want us to do so much preparation and research, that all Hadrian has to do is show up for the tasks."

"Draco, I want you to focus on researching. Try to scour together as much information as you can, and we'll try to put everything together before each task. Use Destiny as a resource. I know she can't see the future as a direct timeline, but if she concentrates, perhaps she can get some flashes or ideas of what is going to happen." She said authoritatively.

"That sounds alright," Draco commented.

"Blaise, I need you to get closer to the champions. Use that Zabini charm of yours to get more information about their lives and find out anything else we can use against them."

"I'm flattered you think I'm charming," Blaise smirked, "I'll do my best."

"To be clear, this does not mean you spend all your time flirting with that Veela girl from Beuaxbatons," Daphne reminded him.

"Fine," Blaise grumbled, looking slightly put out at that.

"Neville," Daphne said finally turning to face him, "I need you to wrangle the support of the other houses. It needs to be subtle, so nobody can accuse us of purposefully antagonizing Diggory, but it has to be noticeable enough to convince everyone that the true Hogwarts champion is Hadrian."

"You want _me_ to do that?" Neville looked uncomfortable, "Isn't Draco more suited for–"

"Neville, you're friendly with the other houses. They respect you and the younger years look up to you. If anyone can do this, it's you," Daphne claimed.

"And if Hadrian finds out what we're doing?" Draco raised an eyebrow in question.

"Then we're all screwed, mate," Blaise grinned. "At least we'll go down together."

"We're not going anywhere. We signed a blood oath promising our loyalty to Hadrian. What good is loyalty if we can't even help him when he desperately needs it?" Daphne said, fixing them all with a determined stare. "We start tomorrow. By this time next week, I want a full report from each of you."

"Are we trying to win this?" Neville asked, leaning forward in his seat curiously. "It _is_ highly dangerous. Maybe we should just focus on getting Hadrian out alive. Let the other three champions fight each other for the glory."

"I thought that was rather obvious, Neville," Daphne raised an eyebrow, "We play to win. Always."

"And what exactly will you be doing during this master plan of yours, Greengrass?" Draco drawled, crossing his arms across his chest.

"I'll be supervising, of course. And distracting Hadrian," She smiled prettily at them.

"I don't know what 'distracting Hadrian' consists of, and I don't even want to know," Blaise made a face.

"Not like that, you idiot!" Daphne turned pink at his insinuation. She shook her hair out of her face and sighed, "I'm going to go to bed now. I'll talk to you tomorrow morning."

 **Hogwarts** **Library [November 14** **th** **]**

"Draco Malfoy in the Library?" Hermione said in a tone of mock astonishment, "Has hell frozen over?"

"Shut up, Granger." The blond grumbled. His eyes narrowed when he saw her place her bag on the seat across from him. "What are you doing?"

"Sitting," She replied flippantly, rolling her eyes as though it was obvious.

"I meant why are you sitting _here_?" He asked aggressively.

"Considering the fact that this is _my_ usual table you've invaded, I really should be the one asking _you_ that question."

"Sit somewhere else," He demanded.

"The library is rather crowded tonight, Malfoy. There aren't many available seats," She pointed out crossly, pulling out her books.

Draco briefly ran his eyes over the familiar titles and raised an eyebrow, "Interesting reading material you've got there, Granger."

Hermione shrugged as she opened her book, "Daphne asked me to do some research to help Hadrian in the tournament. I thought I'd start with reading some offensive spells books to find some brilliant curses in case one of the tasks requires the champions to duel."

"You won't find anything useful in that book then," He replied, writing something down on the parchment beside him.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"I read that one yesterday, there's nothing of importance in there," Draco waved his hand dismissively.

"Fine," She replied, reaching for the next book in her stack.

"That one is useless too," Draco cut in before she had even opened the giant tome.

She narrowed her eyes at him and picked up the next book.

"So is that one," He smirked.

Hermione glared at him, the amber in her eyes nearly glowing with rage in the dim light. "What is your problem, Malfoy?"

"Daphne asked me to do some research to help Hadrian as well. Looks like I wasn't the only one she asked," He looked at her pointedly. "I already read all those books and I can tell you it was a waste of time. There's nothing in them that can help Hadrian get an edge over those other champions."

She pursed her lips, "Well, maybe there's something you might've missed, or you didn't understand."

Draco sneered at her, "Granger, I'm second in our class–"

"Third, actually, behind me," She interrupted him.

He frowned, "I'm beating you in potions, arithmancy, and astronomy."

She shook her head, "And I'm beating you in charms, runes, and transfiguration."

"Fine! We're both tied for second," He reluctantly conceded. "The point is, I'm confident there's nothing I've missed. If we're both trying to help Hadrian, then there's no reason for you to waste your time reading something I've already read."

"Are you suggesting we work together?" Hermione shot him an incredulous look.

"No," He drawled, "I'm suggesting we split up the work and report our findings to each other before we talk to Hadrian. It would be easier, and we can get through twice the material between the both of us."

"That's what working together means, Malfoy," She muttered in annoyance. "And, surprisingly I agree with you. But we need to set some ground rules first."

"Why does everything have to have rules with you?" He threw his hands in the air in exasperation, "Can't you do anything without setting limits on yourself?"

"Rule number one: No insulting me," She ignored him, "Rule number two: No hexing me. Rule number three: no being annoying– "

"Your rules are rubbish," Draco informed her before she could rattle off five more rules at him, "I promise not to do anything that would hurt our productivity. Is that enough for you?"

Hermione considered it for a second and then nodded, "Alright, Malfoy." She picked up another book from her stack and set it in front of her. She was about to open it when she noticed the face the blond across from her was making.

"What is it now, Malfoy," She sighed heavily.

"It's just… I've read that one too," He grimaced. "Why don't you just read one of mine?" He handed her one of the books in his stack before she could throw another hostile look at him.

She accepted it from him suspiciously. "Dragons?" She questioned, looking at the title.

"Destiny has a feeling the first task has to do with dragons," He explained, "So I grabbed a couple books about them," He paused, "Well, the books I haven't already read."

"Who knew Draco Malfoy was such a bookworm?" She teased, almost lightheartedly.

"Just read your book, Granger," He grunted, ignoring her surprisingly pleasant-sounding peal of laughter in response.


	16. Retribution

**A/N:** **Ugh I'm sorry this update is a couple days late you guys! Things have been so crazy with work and we just finished wrapping up a project so I can finally breathe again! Now this chapter will leave a lot of you unhappy and I apologize. There's just so much information I have to squeeze into Chapters 15-17 that the spacing and the division of events and stuff might seem extremely odd to you. I just couldn't fit everything in 2 chapters and then everything seemed too little for 3 chapters and I debated about this for days (believe it or not). But Chapter 17 should be the last one of these weird chapters and then everything will be normal again. That was poor planning on my part and I'm sorry! This chapter is a lot about relationships and less "action" so I'm sorry for you action-thirsty people!**

 **P.S Shoutout to that guest reviewer who's keeping me on my toes with the daily reviews asking me to update, you're the best, darling. I see you working out here! The devil works hard, but my reviewers work harder!**

 **Enjoy! (And like always, please review!)**

 **Slytherin Dormitory [November 23** **rd** **]**

"It's me," Daphne knocked on the solid black oak door, "Can I come in?"

The door swung open and Daphne walked inside curiously, holding her bag close to her side. She'd never been inside Hadrian's room before. It was kept neat, as she expected, but there was something eerily sterile about it. Hadrian's room didn't have quidditch posters plastered to the wall with spell-o-tape like Draco did. As far as she knew, he didn't have a copy of PlayWitch thrown casually on his desk like Blaise did. His room seemed devoid of his personality.

Daphne cocked her head to the side and watched Hadrian, who was writing on his parchment frantically with one hand as he flipped a page in a dusty book with the other.

She cleared her throat, "You missed dinner tonight."

Hadrian waved his hand unconcernedly, "I was busy with something."

Daphne frowned, moving to sit beside him on the bed, "That might've been a sufficient answer for Blaise but not for me. You haven't eaten much of anything for the past few days. What's going on?"

"It's touching you've decided to track my meals, but I don't need a dietician," He snarked.

Daphne frowned, "Don't be a prick, Hadrian. Tell me what's wrong."

He didn't even tear his eyes from the page as he said, "My father just has me doing a couple tasks because he can't be bothered to do them himself."

Daphne glanced dubiously at the thick stack of books on his desk, none of which she identified as school textbooks, "A couple tasks? Hadrian that looks like two years worth of reading."

Hadrian shrugged, "He wants a proposal written by next week. Whether or not that's humanly possible, he doesn't care."

She watched him read in silence for a few minutes before hesitantly asking, "What about the task tomorrow? Are you sure you're ready for that?"

He shrugged, "Does it matter? I still have to compete whether I'm ready or not."

She sighed heavily, pushing back a lock of long golden hair that had fallen in her face, "Please be careful, Hadrian."

Hadrian glanced up at that, biting back his automatic sarcastic reply after sensing something unfamiliar in her tone. His eyebrows furrowed slightly as he tried to decipher the flash of emotion that appeared in her dark blue eyes.

"I promise I'll be careful," He spoke quietly, noticing how her shoulders almost sagged with relief at his words.

"Thank you," She beamed at him, and Hadrian found it impossible to _not_ smile back at her.

Before he could get back to his reading, Daphne blurted out, "After breakfast tomorrow, you must meet Draco at the library in our usual place before the first task. He has something important to tell you."

Hadrian's eyes narrowed, "What is it?"

Daphne averted her gaze, choosing to play with the hem of her skirt instead of facing his suspicion. "I'm not quite sure what it's about," She lied, "Just that it was important."

"I really don't have time for–"

"Hadrian, it will only take an hour at most. If you'd like, I can help you with any work you have tonight so you're not behind on anything," Daphne waved her hand dismissively, "But you have to go tomorrow."

"Can you help me read ancient texts from the 15th century and piece together a regeneration spell?" Hadrian raised an eyebrow in challenge.

Daphne bit her lip, "I'm sure I could do anything if you teach me, Hadrian."

He stilled at her words, unsure if _she_ even understood the weight of what she had just said.

"Why don't you teach me, so I can help you with whatever you're doing. It could be like an investment for the future," She offered, trying to fill up the silence that had occurred after her original statement. "But first," She paused and opened her bag, pulling out a container of leftover food, "I have to make sure you don't kill yourself while trying to follow your father's insane orders."

Hadrian snapped out of his thoughts and stared at her in confusion, "Where did you even get that?"

Daphne smirked, "Destiny's friendly with those Weasley twins in Gryffindor and they told her how to sneak into the kitchens. She just so happened to pass that secret along to me. I coaxed the house elves into giving me some of the dinner you missed tonight."

He looked slightly put out that there was something about Hogwarts that he _didn't_ know, but shook his head anyways, "I'm not hungry."

She scoffed, picking up her fork, "Darling, you don't have a choice. Now open."

Hadrian rolled his eyes but complied, taking the bite of food from her, "Happy?"

Daphne raised an eyebrow, "Only if you eat the entire thing."

Hadrian flipped a page in his book and looked up at her with a mocking smile, "For you my dear, anything."

 **Hogwarts Library [November 24** **th** **]**

Hadrian Riddle sat with Daphne in the one of the hidden alcoves in the library the next morning. He set down the book he was currently reading as he was approached by his best friend and surprisingly Hermione Granger at his side. He raised an eyebrow at the pair of them curiously.

"Draco, Hermione," He acknowledged them, "Interesting seeing you both here. Not attacking each other."

Draco rolled his eyes, "Like Granger would let me take all the credit for this."

"Well, I did do half the work," She sniffed haughtily, "Besides people wouldn't even believe you're capable of doing such an intellectually rigorous task alone."

"Can we skip the useless banter and get to the point?" Hadrian cut in sharply, "I have a tournament to prepare for."

Daphne gently placed a hand on his shoulder, "Please listen to everything they have to say before you overreact, Hadrian."

He glanced at her abruptly, "What is that supposed to mean?"

Hermione quickly pulled out a stack of parchment from the bag at her side and neatly set it on the desk in front of Hadrian. She rocked back and forth on her heels and nervously pushed back a lock of fluffy brown hair. "It means Malfoy and I have compiled together a guide to the first task. For you."

Hadrian looked skeptically down at the stack in front of him. "A what?" He asked dumbly.

"A guide," Draco repeated carefully, "In it you'll find everything you need to know about the first task. You'll see exactly what it entails, what strategies you could use, and possible spells that might be of use to you. Blaise even included some information on the other champions that could help."

Hadrian stared at the parchment, hesitantly reaching out to flip through the pages. Just as Draco had explained, in neat handwriting was every detail about the task he was to compete in in just a few hours. He saw diagrams and different sets of instructions outlining the varying tactics he could use.

"Don't be cross with us, Hadrian," Hermione bit her lip, "We only want to help you."

He studied the papers with a critical eye, "And how exactly did you manage to compile this information? I'm assuming the other champions don't have this handy little cheat sheet?"

"Well–" Draco began.

"I don't need all your help," Hadrian sneered, pushing the papers to the side, "I can do this by myself."

Daphne kept her eyes on him, even as she said quietly, "Draco, Hermione, would you please give us a minute?"

Draco nodded quickly, already stepping back from the table. Before Hermione could say anything, he grabbed her elbow and dragged her away as well, silencing her mumbled protests with a glare.

Hadrian crossed his arms across his chest, "I should've known this was your idea. If you're going to lecture me–"

Daphne stood up from her seat gracefully, shaking her head as she walked around the table to face him. "Oh, I'm not going to lecture you."

"Then what? Are you going to scold me?" He snorted.

Daphne rested her palms on the table and leaned forward, the dark look in her eyes contrasting starkly with her honey-sweet tone, "If I ever hear you turn down help your friends have offered, especially after how hard they worked to make everything possible, I will make your life so miserable you'll have no choice but to beg for their help, Hadrian Riddle."

He glared at her, "Did you just threaten me?"

Daphne shrugged, pulling up the chair across the table and sitting down. She pushed the stack of parchment toward him and crossed her legs, absentmindedly twirling a piece of long golden hair.

"If you sit there and think you can _threaten_ me into–" Hadrian seethed.

"Actually, I think that's exactly what I'm doing, Hadrian," She cocked her head to the side. "Now you only have a few hours left before the first task, and I would hate to have to cheer for Krum instead of you," She pouted, "At least I know _he'll_ be prepared."

"You can't be serious," Hadrian sputtered, "You'd rather cheer for that brute?"

"Call Viktor what you what, but at least he isn't stupid enough to turn down help when someone offers it," Daphne smirked. She eyed her nails disinterestedly, "Besides, he _is_ an international quidditch sensation, so I wouldn't need much convincing to cheer for him."

"Daphne…" He warned her, his voice low.

"Hadrian," She mimicked, unfazed by the dark expression on his face. "What's it going to be?"

He growled under his breath and wordlessly grabbed a handful of papers. "I cannot believe I'm being threatened into this."

"I believe it's more of a persuasive argument than a threat," Daphne smiled prettily, picking up her book, "Now if you don't mind, I have some 15th century dark arts to brush up on."

* * *

"I told you that Beauxbatons Veela would've played it safe for the first task," Draco pointed out haughtily.

Hermione crossed her arms as across her chest in annoyance, "No, you said she would've gone with a boring strategy because she's a _woman_."

He shrugged, "All she did was put that dragon to sleep. Even a swot like yourself can admit that's boring."

Hermione briefly contemplated pushing the blond over the low railing that separated them from the arena below but decided it against the end due to the amount of witnesses around them. Instead, she took a deep breath and seethed, "I'll get back to your blatant sexism some other time, but right now I need to focus. Krum's up next."

"Why do you need to focus on Krum?" Draco raised an eyebrow, "We already know he's going to go with some kind of aggressive tactic. Have you seen any of his quidditch matches?"

She lowered her omniculars for the sole purpose of giving him an exasperated look.

"Of course, you don't watch quidditch," He muttered under his breath, "Anyways, I think he'd make a better beater than a seeker. He's brutal on the field."

 _Brutal, indeed,_ Hermione thought to herself as she watched the Bulgarian try his hand at the first task. When it had been announced, he seemed rather unsurprised and she could only deduce that like them, he had already known about the dragons. Perhaps he was smarter than he let on.

Her eyebrows nearly rose to her hairline in shock when she recognized the conjunctivitis curse shoot out of his wand. She frowned as the dragon blindly stumbled back, screeching in pain. It seemed entirely unnecessary to physically maim the dragon, in her opinion. After all, the task only required the champion to retrieve one of the golden eggs the dragon was guarding, not to actually slay the dragon.

The judges seemed to agree with her as well, for they ended up docking points for the golden eggs the dragon had accidentally smashed when it staggered back from the impact of Krum's blinding curse.

"Granger, he's gone. Now you can stop drooling and actually blink," Malfoy drawled as Krum was escorted back to the champion's tent.

"I wasn't staring," She hissed, unable to fight the way her cheeks flushed at his loud statement.

"Really? Because I definitely was," Daphne murmured from beside her.

Hermione shot her an unimpressed look. "I was simply assessing his technique," She sniffed. "And since Krum drew the Chinese Fireball, that means Hadrian's going to have to face– "

"The Hungarian Horntail," Daphne breathed as she recalled the four dragons that had been announced at the beginning of the task, "That's the most dangerous one of them all!"

Hermione nodded vigorously, "Hadrian better go with the defensive strategy, otherwise he's going to end up getting half his face melted off."

"That would be a shame," Daphne sighed, smoothing down her dress. Her trembling hands were the only signs that betrayed the true extent of her nervousness.

Draco shook his head, "He's better off going with the offensive strategy we outlined for him. Isn't that the muggle saying you always spew? You should fight fire with fire?"

"You _shouldn't_ fight fire with fire," Hermione corrected. She turned to Daphne and gently squeezed her hand, "Don't worry, he'll be fine, Daphne. He's not going into this unprepared. We made sure of that."

Daphne bit her lip, vaguely nodding in acknowledgement at Hermione's words. She watched with wide, unblinking eyes as Hadrian strode confidently into the makeshift arena. Almost in slow motion, she saw him turn to face them in the stands and she held her breath.

And then, he smirked.

Her shoulders immediately tensed up. To anyone else, it was just a quick charming smile, but Daphne knew exactly what that look meant. She'd seen it too many times and she _knew_ Hadrian Riddle all too well to think lightly of such an expression.

It was a look that promised retribution.

"Daphne, you're erm–"Hermione wiggled her hand under Daphne's death grip, "You're, uh, hurting my hand."

Abruptly, she let go, not even realizing in her panicked state she had squeezed Hermione's hand until it had nearly turned a deathly shade of white. "I'm sorry," She whispered, not even tearing her eyes off Hadrian.

She held her breath as Hadrian made his way over to the ferocious looking dragon. He studied it for a couple minutes, holding a sturdy shielding charm around him to protect him from the random bursts of fire the dragon would exhale.

"He's going to use the defensive tactic," Hermione insisted.

"No, he's going to attack first," Draco disagreed.

Only Daphne Greengrass was left unsurprised when Hadrian Riddle did neither of those things. Instead of dodging around the dragon or even stepping toward it any further, Hadrian folded his legs beneath him and sat down on the grass.

The crowd watched in confusion as Hadrian idly leaned back on his hands and stared up at the dragon in front of him. And then, to everyone's utter shock, he lazily dipped his hand in a nearby puddle and flicked the droplets onto the dragon.

There was a laugh from somewhere in the stands and Draco snapped his head up with a frown.

"What is he doing?" Hermione whispered frantically, "This isn't what we told him to do."

"That's because Hadrian Riddle does not like to be told what to do," Daphne paused and added, "He also does not like to be threatened."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Draco asked. Her answer was cut short when Hadrian flicked the dragon with another few drops of water.

"Is he just going to sit there and let that thing maul him?" Hermione asked nervously as the dragon approached the area where Hadrian was sitting. She covered her eyes with her hands, "Oh Merlin, I can't watch."

Suddenly there were gasps and Hermione whimpered, "He's dead, isn't he? I just know he's dead, Oh my god, Oh my god."

Wordlessly she felt someone peel off the hands covering her face and when she pried open her eyes, her jaw nearly unhinged.

Somehow, Hadrian had managed to erect an entire wall made entire of clear water around the entire Hungarian Horntail. The fire it breathed had no effect on the wall and fizzled out upon impact. The wall caged the dragon in entirely, and it had no room to move.

The entire crowd watched with rapt attention as Hadrian got up onto his feet and dusted off his trousers. He didn't even bother walking to retrieve the golden egg, but instead summoned it to him.

Even the judges seemed in awe that the youngest champion could pull off such strong magic, whilst staying in one position the entire time.

"I don't believe it," Draco mumbled. "He didn't use a single one of the _fourteen_ strategies we outlined for it."

"Nor did he use a single spell–other than the summoning spell– from the _five_ pages of useful spells we gave him," Hermione pointed out.

"I bet he didn't even read the two pages on the other champions that Blaise wrote up either," Draco commented sourly.

"He didn't fight fire with fire, he fought it with water," Hermione mumbled in disbelief.

"He's trying to show us he doesn't need our help," Daphne explained bitterly. She leaned away from the railing and took a deep breath, watching as he was escorted back to the champion's tent. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go smash his head into a vanishing cabinet for acting like such a child."

She quickly made her way down the stands, dodging a few people on her way to the champions tent. In the background she could hear the scores being announced and she smiled to herself as she heard Hadrian get awarded first place. She heard a girlish shriek from inside the tent and she hesitated for a second before pushing through the flap doors and entering the tent.

Daphne stopped in her tracks just as abruptly as she'd entered.

Of all people, _Padma Patil_ was wrapped up in Hadrian's embrace, wrapping her arms around his neck and looking up at him with big, adoring brown eyes.

She cleared her throat, ignoring the way she felt an angry flush creep up her neck. "I'm sorry am I interrupting something?"

They stepped apart immediately, and Daphne arched a brow, waiting for one of them to explain themselves.

"Oh, hello, Greengrass," Patil said tentatively, as if _she_ were the one that was confused. "What are you doing in the champions tent?"

Daphne resisted the urge to draw her wand on the girl right there for her asinine question. "I came to see, Hadrian, of course. I had to talk to him about something," She waited all but five seconds before blurting out, "What are you doing here?"

Padma looked up at Hadrian, but he kept silent, watching Daphne with an amused glint in his green eyes and that _irritating_ smirk on his face. _Retribution_ , Daphne thought to herself offhandedly.

When Padma realized that Hadrian didn't plan on saying anything, she laced her fingers through his and smiled at Daphne shyly, "Well, everyone's going to know soon anyways, but Hadrian's asked me to the Yule Ball!"

"The what?" Daphne repeated dumbly.

"Oh, you don't know yet! Hadrian told me that the Tournament is sponsoring a Yule Ball over the holidays! Isn't it exciting!" Padma Patil beamed at her. "I just can't wait to go dress up and dance all night. It's going to be so fun, isn't it Hadrian?"

"Absolutely," Hadrian smiled down at her. His lips curled into a toothy grin, but Daphne saw the cold look in his eyes. She saw the way he looked back at her with smugness.

"Aren't you happy for us, Daphne?" He mocked.

She stepped back as she realized this was a game to him. She had done something to displease him, and this was his form of punishment.

But Daphne Greengrass did not _cry_. She did not pout or whine or sob over an _irritating, smug, annoying_ boy who was toying with her. She would not play his game.

"Daphne? Did you hear me?"

She forced a smile onto her face, "Of course I am! This is so wonderful. I just can't believe it."

He expected her to be repentant, but she was not. He expected her to back down, but she would not.

He wanted her obedience, but it was time he knew Daphne Greengrass answered to no one.

 **Slytherin Common Room [December 6** **th** **]**

The announcement of a Yule Ball had every girl nearly fainting with excitement and every boy groaning at the thought of dress robes and flowers and all that nonsense. Ginevra herself had been one of those giggling girls for all but two minutes when her head of house had informed them that only fourth years and older were permitted to attend.

Refusing to have her hopes for a dream evening shattered, Ginevra simply realized she'd need to be escorted by someone who _was_ able to attend. And she had the perfect poor sod in mind.

"Zabini," Ginervra Weasley called out in a sweet tone that made him step back a little out of fear. "I've been looking for you for quite some time."

"Oh?" He choked out, watching her rise from the common room sofa and approach him. "Why?"

"I have a proposal for you," She smiled up at him with her big, doe-like eyes. She fluttered her lashes and Blaise _almost_ fell for her innocent act, but then he remembered the vindictive streak in her and his entire body stiffened.

"What is it?" He asked, trying his best to sound disinterested. She stepped closer to him and her hand reached out to play with the ends of his tie.

"Take me to the Yule Ball," Ginevra cocked her head to the side, brushing aside some hair that had fallen out of his carefully styled hair and into his eyes. "And–"

Blaise scoffed, "Let me stop you right there. You get to attend the Yule Ball with arguably the most charming _and_ most attractive bloke in Hogwarts. Not to mention, you'll probably be the only third year in attendance, so your popularity will skyrocket as a result. And what do I get?"

Ginevra rolled her eyes, "You get to have Ginevra Weasley on your arm for an entire evening."

Blaise tapped his foot impatiently, "That doesn't sound like a fair tradeoff."

Ginevra Weasley paused for a few seconds before nodding to herself, "You're right. I can do _so_ much better."

She made to walk away, but Blaise grabbed her arm and yanked her back to him. "That's not what I meant," He grumbled. "I want more than just you draped over my arm like some ice queen the entire night."

Ginevra raised an eyebrow, "Well then, what do you want from me, Zabini?"

Blaise grinned roguishly, "I want a real date. That means I show up at your door with flowers, I tell you that you look lovely, we dance, you laugh at all my jokes–"

"But you have really bad jokes" Ginevra sighed.

"Bully for you," Blaise shrugged, "Anyways, we eat dinner, dance some more, I feel you up in the rosebushes–"

"Not going to happen," She cut in, a cross expression on her face.

"Fine," He paused, "But at the end of the night, I will require a kiss goodbye."

Ginevra narrowed her eyes as she debated over it for a couple seconds. Finally, she smirked, "Deal. Now, I haven't gotten my dress yet but–"

"I already got you one, it's black and I'll have it delivered to your room by tomorrow," Blaise waved his hand dismissively. "My mother will send you some matching shoes sometime this week."

"Why did you already–" Ginevra froze and looked up at him as the pieces started to fall together, "You were already planning on asking me!" She accused. When he simply smirked in response, her eyes widened, "You tricked me into asking you, so I'd agree to your ridiculous terms!"

"Slytherin, dear," Blaise said, looking extremely smug, "I'm pleased you figured it out though, it would've been such an awkward conversation to have mid waltz."

She shook her head in disbelief. Suddenly, her head snapped up and fixed him with a cold glare, "If you were already planning on asking me, why the hell did you already ask that annoying Beuaxbatons twit?"

He looked surprised at that, "How did you know I asked Victoria?"

"That girl has done everything short of plastering posters on the walls announcing the fact that she's going with you. Excellent choice, Zabini. If you ever try to tell her you love her, she'll be sending your wedding announcement to the Daily Prophet before you can even get through the entire sentence," Ginevra snickered.

Blaise scratched the back of his head sheepishly, "In my defense, she was just a backup in case this entire scheme didn't work out." He grimaced, "Now I have to go tell her the bad news."

Ginevra studied a piece of loose thread on her robes, "I might have already told her that you're not going with her around two days ago. Poor thing was so distraught, I had Astoria send her a box of chocolates offering my condolences."

Blaise stared at her in half shock, half respect. "You're devious," He finally said.

"Slytherin, dear," She replied with a wink.

 **Black Lake [December 10** **th** **]**

Daphne spotted Hermione Granger by the telltale riotous curls that cascaded across her shoulders and the ink stained fingers that dug into the cold ground underneath her. As she approached her friend, she noticed her red eyes and pinkish nose.

"Hermione? Is something the matter?" Daphne asked, sitting down beside her with a look of concern.

Hermione quickly wiped the tears away from her cheeks and shook her head, smiling forcefully, "Nothing, just a bit cold."

"Hermione, you know you can tell me anything, right?" Daphne said firmly, refusing to budge.

Hermione sighed, "I'm not sure I'm going to go to this ball, Daphne."

The blonde frowned, "And why the bloody hell not?"

Hermione felt her eyes sting and she looked up, blinking rapidly, "It's just–guys like Hadrian or Blaise, or even Terry Boot, for that matter. We may be friends and we may spend all our time together, but they'll never like me, not like _that_."

"Like what?" Daphne asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Hadrian likes my intelligence. Blaise thinks I'm his source of entertainment. And that's it, guys like them, they'll never see me as anything more than that. I'm not _pretty_ not like you, not like those other girls."

Daphne rolled her eyes, "Come now Hermione, are you crying about something that silly? You think I'm _pretty_? Look what that got me. Hadrian asked _Padma Patil_ to the ball."

Hermione sniffled, "I don't know what he was thinking, but it doesn't matter! There are hundreds of other boys that will probably ask you, Daphne. People barely even tolerate me, the know-it-all mud blood."

Daphne looked at her sharply, " _Don't_ call yourself that." She wrapped her cloak tightly around her shoulders, "Hermione, you are the smartest witch I know. If the boys at Hogwarts can't appreciate that, then they don't deserve to kiss your shoes, let alone escort you to a silly ball."

Hermione chuckled bitterly, "Is it wrong though? To want someone to call you pretty? To want someone to dance with? I just want someone to look at me the way–" She cut herself off suddenly and looked down at her feet.

"The way what?"

Hermione flushed slightly, "The way Hadrian looks at you, even though he tries to hide it. Nobody's ever looked at me like that. And I've never wanted it. Until now."

Daphne gave her a small smile, "The right person will, Hermione. You don't need some tosser to make you happy. You're Hermione Granger–people need you, not the other way around."

* * *

"Do I need to get a tie that matches your dress color?" Neville asked aloud as he walked with his girlfriend through the castle. "Or am I supposed to match your corsage to your dress?"

He looked at Destiny's puzzled face and paused, "Are these the right questions I'm supposed to be asking? I just heard some Ravenclaw go on about how his date picked a pink dress and now he has to wear hot pink robes and now his life is ruined and not that I'd be against pink, but your dress isn't pink, is it?"

Destiny opened her mouth to respond and closed it again, dumfounded.

Neville poked her side teasingly, "Destiny, are you having a vision or something? What's wrong with you?"

She shook her head and looked at him in bewilderment, "I'm sorry, I just didn't know we were going together."

Neville stopped abruptly in his steps. "You're a Seer," He pointed out slowly, "Didn't you already know we would go together?" He ran a hand through his hair in frustration, "And even if you weren't a Seer, we've been dating since first year. Who did you think I was going to show up with? Millicent Bulstrode?"

"For cripes sake, Neville, you still have to ask me! I can't just _assume_ these things," Destiny huffed.

Neville frowned, "I thought they were implied!"

"You still have to ask me to the ball, you idiot!"

Neville scratched his head, "Gran did not mention this during our yearly talks. Last year she told me to always use contraceptive charms and never get flavored chewing tobacco, but she did not mention how to ask a girl to the ball."

"Your Gran's a strange one, isn't she?" Destiny laughed.

"That she is," Neville admitted. He checked to see if the hallway was clear before he lowered himself down to one knee and looked up at Destiny with a smile. "Now I apologize for not doing this before but–"

"Are you proposing?" Destiny hissed, looking alarmed at the thought. "Why are you down on one knee?"

"What?" Neville immediately got back up from the stone floor, dusting off his trousers. "Of course not. Am I not supposed to get down on one knee and ask you to the ball?"

"For Merlin's sake Neville, one would think you were raised under a rock," Destiny tsked. She grabbed his hand and looked at him with mischievous eyes, "Now before you muck this up a _third_ time, Neville would you go to the Yule Ball with me?"

He pretended to think about it for a moment, until Destiny slapped his shoulder and he laughed, "Of course, I'd be delighted to go with you."

She giggled, and they walked in silence for a couple minutes before Neville asked, "Does this mean you have to get me flowers?"

 **Slytherin Common Room [December 15** **th** **]**

"Why are you in such a bad mood," Hadrian inquired, propping his feet up on the coffee table, staring at the golden egg in his lap.

"I'm a Malfoy. Part of the Scared Twenty-Eight. I have more galleons than I can ever spend in my lifetime," Draco began sullenly.

Hadrian raised an eyebrow, "And?"

"And I still don't have a date to the Yule Ball!" Draco exclaimed, "Sure, I could've gone with one of the girls from Beuaxbatons, but their giggling gives me a headache. And Pansy keeps telling me her dress is pink and so my tie has to match her dress–even though I haven't asked her to be my date yet! This is a huge problem–even Granger's starting to look like a good option right now!"

"She's already going with someone," Hadrian mentioned offhandedly, flipping a page in his book. When he heard Draco go silent, Hadrian glanced up to see the blond giving him an incredulous look. He held his hands up in apology, "Sorry. Please continue with your … whining."

While Draco continued his ranting, Hadrian tuned out his friend's clear frustration as he tried to focus on figuring out the riddle for the second task. After a while of brainstorming different ideas, Hadrian decided to go for a walk, thinking it would clear his head.

"Are you even listening to me," Draco demanded. Hadrian snapped his head back, momentarily forgetting Draco was still talking about the stupid Ball.

"Ask Daphne."

"What?" Draco's mouth dropped open, "But aren't you–She won't– "

"Ask Daphne," He repeated.

Draco shook his head, "But isn't she going with that Durmstrang loser?"

Hadrian stiffened, "Which one?"

Draco shrugged, "I don't know, excluding Krum, they all look like Neanderthals to me. Why do you care, aren't you going with Padma?"

"Find out his name."

His friend raised an eyebrow, "I don't see how that's relevant but fine. Can we go back to my problems now?"

Hadrian gritted his teeth together, "You're a Malfoy, part of the sacred twenty-eight and whatever. Convince Daphne to go with you instead."

He rose from the couch, "I'm going for some fresh air," He declared, "Oh and Draco?"

"What?"

"Keep your hands above the waist."

* * *

When he came back from his walk, he was surprised to see Daphne lounging on the common room couch at such a late hour. The rest of the Slytherins had already gone to bed, but Daphne was still sitting alone in their usual spot by the fireplace. As he walked up behind her, he noticed she was writing something very intently on the roll of parchment in her lap.

"What are you doing?" He asked curiously, trying to get a better look of the parchment she was writing on.

She yelped in surprise, jerking back out of her seat and tumbling onto the floor before Hadrian could even blink.

He quickly walked around the sofa and leaned down, picking her up effortlessly and carefully setting her back onto the couch. It was only then that he noticed she was wearing some kind of short black satin nightgown covered by a long, mostly sheer black robe.

"What are you doing here," She gasped, quickly yanking her robe shut and flicking away a strand of golden hair that had fallen into her now flushed face.

"Do you always lounge around the common room after hours dressed like this?" Hadrian raised an eyebrow, noting with slight amusement that her feet were incased in fluffy black pygmy puff slippers.

"No," She scowled, "I just couldn't sleep so I came back up here. I didn't know anyone else would be here. And you still haven't answered my question." She gave him a pointed look.

"I was taking a walk," He shrugged carelessly, "And _you_ still haven't answered _my_ question. What were you writing?"

"Oh, just something for class. It's not really worth discussing," She waved her hand dismissively.

"And that's why you got up in the middle of the night to write it?" He asked skeptically. Before she could protest, he reached over and snatched the roll of parchment out of her hands.

"A Guide to the Second Task?" Hadrian read aloud, his features quickly darkening with anger as he continued to read every word. The parchment wrinkled around his harsh grip. "What is this, Daphne?"

She leaned back in her seat, studying her perfectly manicured nails with disinterest. "It seems like it's a guide to the second task, Hadrian. But then again, that is what you just read so you should have known the answer to such a ridiculous question."

"What is the meaning of this?" He demanded to know, "I told you I don't need your help–"

"And I–for the life of me–cannot seem to find an ounce of myself that cares about what you told me," She shrugged.

"Oh really?" He cocked his head to the side in challenge. Suddenly, he tossed the entire roll of parchment into the open flames in the fireplace.

Daphne looked as though she were about to leap over and pull her notes back out before they burned to ashes, but she simply straightened up in her seat, and looked otherwise unmoved. "That's alright. I wasn't very far anyways," She said blandly.

"What is the matter with you? When did you stop listening to me?" He hissed.

She pretended to think for a moment, "Perhaps when you decided to go about this path of self-destruction. It's very concerning, you know."

"You have _no_ right to interfere in my life, Daphne," He paused and added viciously, "You're _just_ my friend. And clearly not a good one at that."

He knew it was cruel, but he counted it as a little victory when he saw her visibly flinch at his words.

"You can push me away all you want, Hadrian. But I'm not going to let you kill yourself trying to keep your father happy. It isn't right," She said firmly.

"You don't get to decide what I can or cannot do," He growled, "I don't listen to you."

"And I don't take orders from you!" She snapped.

He crossed his arms across his chest and glared down at her, "I will _not_ read your stupid guide thing."

"That's your decision. But I'll still make one for you. Because that's what a good _friend_ does," She said softly, getting up slowly from the couch. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a long day with Hermione tomorrow at Hogsmeade."

His head snapped up at that, "Daphne, I do have one request for you."

She paused in her steps, but did not turn around, causing her robes to flare out dramatically behind her, "Oh?"

He kept his eyes trained on her as he smiled innocently, "Padma _really_ expressed interest in purchasing some new shoes for the ball. And I promised I'd go with her, but I recently had something come up. You wouldn't mind if she tags along with you and Hermione, would you? I know she would really appreciate another girl's opinion more than mine."

Daphne gritted her teeth together, "Of course, Hadrian. We'd be delighted if she could join us."

 **Hogwarts Library [December 19** **th** **]**

"Daphne, that reminds me of something I've been meaning to ask you," Draco barely glanced away from the book he was currently reading, "Would you go to the Yule Ball with me?"

Daphne blinked, "Draco, you know I'm going with Ivan."

"Ivan… Ivan who?"

She fixed him with an already irritated glance, "Ivan Stansky. He's the Durmstrang version of a prefect, you know."

"Congrats," He remarked dryly. "I'm sure he'll go far in life with such a legendary title."

"And this conversation is over," Daphne seethed, turning back to her books.

Draco looked up at her with a pouty face, "Daphne, come on- you're my only option left!"

She huffed in annoyance, "As lovely as it is to hear that I'm your last option, I'm afraid I'm going to have to decline your invitation."

"You wouldn't be so cruel as to let me go with Pansy, would you?" He pleaded, "Please Daphne!"

Daphne shook her head, "I don't care. Besides, I already told Ivan I'd go with him and it would be rude to stand him up."

Draco paused and looked around slowly to make sure nobody was listening before leaning forward. "Daphne," He whispered, "If you don't come with me to the ball, Hadrian is going to literally kill me. You don't want that do you?" He gave her a charming, if not slightly panicked, smile.

She gave him an irritated look, unfazed by his attempt to be suave. "Oh, so you're asking me under _Hadrian's_ orders then."

"Daphne, please, he's going to be so mad–"

"You know what I'm mad about?" Daphne hissed, slamming her book shut, "The fact that he asked some cheap tart to the ball! And then he asked me to take her shopping! That was such a slap in the face," She whispered harshly. She sniffed and added "So I don't care if he's mad. If he didn't want me to go with Ivan, he should've asked me himself."

"Daphne," Draco looked at her softly, "I'm sure he had a good reason for not taking you–"

"Like what?" She snapped, angrily arranging her papers on the desk. "Am I too hideous to escort?"

Draco glanced briefly at her heart shaped face and bright blue eyes, framed perfectly by soft tresses of golden hair. Even when they had entered the library, he'd noticed several appreciative looks in their direction, and despite his narcissistic tendencies, he knew those tossers certainly weren't looking at him.

"That's definitely it, you're absolutely revolting," Draco rolled his eyes, but his sarcasm was lost on her.

"How dare you?" Daphne gasped.

"Maybe you were _too_ pretty?" He said hastily, "I mean, maybe he was afraid you would outshine him..." He trailed off when she shot him an icy glare. He held his hands up in surrender, "Okay, Okay. Maybe his father told him to do it."

"Yes, I'm sure his father cares so much about which girl he takes to a school ball," Daphne retorted.

Draco adjusted his collar slightly, "Daphne, these are Hadrian's direct orders. Please, you know what happens to someone when they don't follow his orders."

Daphne rolled her eyes, "You can choke as far as I'm concerned, you're his best friend–I'm mad at you by association."

"By association–"Draco sputtered. He looked ready to retaliate, but instead he took a deep breath and gave her a tight smile, "How about this. You go to the ball with me, and I will do everything afterwards to help you make Hadrian jealous. That's why you said yes to Ivan, isn't it?"

Daphne refused to meet his eyes, "That's not the only reason–"

He gave her a disbelieving look, "Don't play coy, Greengrass. Everyone else may be fooled by your perfect princess act, but not me. When we were six and I accidentally broke your witchy-witch doll, do you remember what you did?"

She hummed innocently, "I can't seem to recall–"

"You stole my favorite Roderick Plumpton quidditch figurine that I kept in a locked case–which I still don't know how you managed to unlock to this day–and then you spent the next four months sending me back pieces of his severed limbs! It traumatized me for years!" He pointed an accusing finger at her, "You're as Slytherin as they come, Daphne Greengrass. You're darker than all of us."

She shrugged, "I don't like to flaunt it." She smirked to herself, "Just as long as certain people know."

"Look, I'll make sure Hadrian gets rid of that Patil girl." Draco offered quickly. "Merlin knows why that bloody idiot refuses to see what's standing right in front of him." He muttered under his breath.

Daphne frowned, "What did you say?"

"I said he'll be so angry seeing you with some other boy that he'll leave that Patil girl. By the time our plan is complete, he'll be one step away from proposing."

Daphne gave him a pained look, "Listen, Draco, darling, as much as I appreciate the offer, I don't think I can even pretend to be attracted to you. Besides Hadrian would never believe it."

Draco took in a deep breath, trying to stay calm despite this girl testing his patience. "I certainly wasn't volunteering myself for the job!" He gritted his teeth, "Hadrian would break both my legs if I even looked at you the wrong way. No, we get somebody else to be your love interest for a few weeks. Hell, it can even be Ivan."

Daphne looked contemplative for a while, "And why do I need you for this plan, then?"

Draco shrugged, "Well, If I wasn't on board I would reassure Hadrian that you aren't serious with Ivan and you are just trying to get a rise out of him. Now, if you have me on your side, then I'll be sure to feed him any information you want. He'll believe me, I am his best mate after all."

Daphne cocked her head to the side, "And all I need to do is go to the Ball with you?"

"Exactly." Draco paused for a second before pushing his seat back and rising up from the table, "Perfect, I'll let Hadrian know and tell Ivan he doesn't need that silver tie anymore."

"I haven't even accepted yet!" Daphne reminded him.

Draco smirked, looking back at her as he walked out the library, "You're a smart girl, Daphne. I know you'll say yes."


	17. Devotion

**A/N: Oh my god, are y'all surprised that I uploaded not just on time, but a week EARLY? Fun Fact, I've been writing this Yule Ball chapter since I started chapter 1 of the Dark Prince series! So, if you absolutely hate it, I don't want to hear it! Ha, just kidding.** **This chapter will make a lot of you very happy, and maybe a few of you pretty sad, heads up. Also it's called "Devotion" because I was listening to "Devotion" by Hurts when I was writing this and it's literally this chapter's theme song. I'd recommend listening to it, it's pretty dope in my opinion.**

 **Check out my tumblr (lovemyromance) if you want to see a visual inspiration for the outfits! Also not saying I made Hadrian go with Padma because the Patil twins outfits in the movie have made me angry as hell to this day, but, don't worry I fixed it for this fanfic!**

 **Please review! This is probably my favorite chapter of the entire series thus far and it would mean a lot even if you just said "nice"! I want a thousand reviews! Or fifty, yeah let's do fifty!**

 **Enjoy!**

 **Great Hall [December 21** **st** **]**

Daphne placed her bag carefully on the bench as she sat down, resisting the urge to throw it across the table in her anger. She smoothed down her skirt as she took her usual place beside Hadrian, refusing to look at him as she reached for a slice of toast.

"Good morning," He smiled at her, and it took everything in her power not to slam his face down into the plate of food in front of him. Instead, she simply smiled back at him forcefully, but made no other move to acknowledge or respond to his greeting.

Shockingly, it was Draco who picked up on her sour mood and he raised an eyebrow in question. She shook her head subtly, and he frowned.

Daphne was perfectly content seething in her own thoughts in silence as she tuned out the conversation around her, but then _he_ spoke.

"Daphne, Padma wanted me to thank you for the pair of shoes you helped her pick out. She said she had a great time and would love to do it again," Hadrian almost purred at her, watching her face carefully for any reaction.

She stopped stabbing at her strawberries and gritted her teeth together, forcing out a pleasant, "It was no problem, Hadrian. Hermione and I had _fun_."

His resulting smirk was absolutely wicked. "I'm pleased to hear that." He took a bite of his food and chewed thoughtfully for a moment before adding, "Perhaps next time we could make it a double date, of sorts. Me and Padma, of course, and you and – "He paused and pretended to frown, "Who was it you decided to attend the ball with, again?"

Daphne almost snapped her fork in half.

"Funny you ask that, actually," She said flatly. She turned to Draco with a neutral expression on her face, "I think I might accept your invitation to escort me to the ball after all, Draco. Seeing as I received some terrible news about my original date just this morning, and unfortunately, he is no longer able to attend."

"Oh?" Hadrian made a sound of polite interest, "If you don't mind me asking, what happened?"

Her shoulders stiffened as she reluctantly said, "Ivan suffered a dreadful fall down an _entire_ staircase. Madam Pomfrey said he was lucky to be breathing after it."

He shook his head sympathetically, "How awful. Those second-floor stairs can be quite tricky if you aren't used to them moving on you."

"Why, Hadrian," She fixed him with a cool look, slowly setting down her fork, "I don't believe I ever mentioned _which_ stairs he'd fallen down."

His eyes glinted with some kind of underlying sick amusement as he shrugged, "Lucky guess, I suppose."

 **Slytherin Dormitory [December 25** **th** **]**

Someone pounded on his door for what felt like the _billionth_ time that hour, and Hadrian audibly groaned in frustration. He reluctantly grabbed his wand and dropped his wards, allowing the door to finally swing open. Draco Malfoy stepped through immediately with a peeved expression on his face, looking perfectly coiffed and ever the pureblood prince in his tailored black dress robes.

His eyes briefly lingered on the crisp silver tie that hung around the blond's neck and he frowned, "Aren't you supposed to be wearing a black tie?"

Draco faltered in his steps, momentarily forgetting his annoyance, "Well, you're–uh–supposed to match your date's dress color, you know?" From Hadrian's blank expression, Draco quickly deduced it was something his friend did _not_ know. He averted his gaze and mumbled, "And since Daphne and I are together– "

"You're just _going_ together, you mean," Hadrian interrupted with a raised brow.

"Yes, of course," Draco corrected himself. "Doesn't your tie match Padma's robes?" He asked.

"How am I supposed to know what color she's wearing?" Hadrian rolled his eyes, "I have better things to do than help her pick out a dress."

Draco sighed and walked over to his friend's armoire, pulling out the dress robes that had _clearly_ not been touched since they had been put into the wardrobe. He muttered a spell under his breath that made the robes look brand new again and shoved them at Hadrian.

"Get ready," He ordered, ignoring the harsh look he received from his friend, "The ball starts soon, and you haven't even touched your hair yet."

Hadrian grumbled a bit but grabbed the robes and stood up. "There's nothing wrong with my hair," He called out as he walked towards the bathroom.

* * *

Hermione tried not to lean away in her chair as Daphne and Destiny peered at her with scrutinizing looks.

"I think we should pin her hair up," Daphne was saying, as she held a curling wand _dangerously_ close to her face.

"But there's going to be a lot of dancing, and her hair might escape and look crazy if it isn't down," Destiny disagreed.

"I think–" Hermione began, but she was quickly interrupted.

"Let's do a dramatic eye look!" Destiny exclaimed, clapping her hands in excitement.

"Her dress is a classic and very feminine design, we can't do a dramatic look!" Daphne argued.

"Can you two just agree on _something_?" Hermione finally blurted out, trying to push down her frustration, "I just need to look _decent_!"

Daphne gasped, "Just _decent_? Do you _know_ who your own date is, Hermione? You have to look perfect! You _have_ to outshine every other girl there!"

Hermione rolled her eyes and gestured to the two of them, "Fat chance of that happening when you two are showing up like _that_."

In order to ensure that her look survived the longest amount of time possible, the girls had collectively decided to get Hermione ready last. As a result, she now currently stood in her ratty jumper and mismatched socks while her two friends looked as though they had just stepped out a fashion magazine.

Daphne had pinned her golden hair up into a romantic updo and put on a light layer of makeup to bring out her dark blue eyes and make her pink lips even plumper. Her silver dress hugged her figure perfectly and her sparkly heels made her seem even taller.

Destiny had spent nearly an hour that evening creating a flawless sultry look with smoky eyelids and dark lipstick that made her teeth seem incredibly white when she smiled. Her dark emerald dress flowed past her waist and pooled at her feet elegantly, making her seem like she was gliding across the floor every time she moved.

In comparison, her own hair was still in a barely contained messy bun and her face was still bare and still slightly red from running down the steps of Ravenclaw tower to get to Destiny's room in time to get ready.

She was snapped out of her thoughts when she suddenly felt a sharp stinging in her side and she jerked back in shock.

"Did you just hex me?" Hermione asked in disbelief, watching Daphne tuck her wand back into her thigh holster and readjust the slit in her dress.

"Yes," She said plainly, with absolutely no sense of remorse, "Now stop acting ridiculous or I'll hex you again. You _are_ going to be the best-looking witch at this ball and if anyone disagrees with me, I'll hex them too. Do you understand?"

Hermione gulped and nodded. Daphne smiled again, and the threatening look on her face melted away immediately. She whispered something to Destiny and her face lit up and she nodded in agreement.

They both turned to her at the same time and beamed in a rather creepy manner, if she were being completely honest.

"We have an idea," Destiny smirked. "Don't freak out–just remember to keep smiling while we do the spell."

* * *

Hadrian stood in front of the mirror adjusting the sleeves of his dress robes just a few moments before he was due to retrieve Padma from Ravenclaw tower. His friends were gathered in his room, casually talking about quidditch or something equally unimportant as he finished getting ready.

His dress robes were perfectly fitted and his hair was smoothed back. Automatically, his eyes dropped to his undone tie–the only thing that looked out of place–and he grumbled under his breath.

He had originally intended to just use a spell to do his tie, but Draco had nearly _shrieked_ from across the room that a spell would somehow pucker the silk, and it had to be done by hand.

Hadrian fumbled with the ends for a few minutes, unsure of how exactly it was done for a formal occasion. Narcissa Malfoy would usually fix his tie for the Malfoy Christmas balls, and during the school year–well, usually Daphne would do it up for him every morning before breakfast. It had been sort of a routine ever since first year, and Hadrian didn't really think much about it until now.

He sighed and did some kind of loose knot around his neck, knowing that was the best it was going to get. He turned around to face his friends, "I'm ready now."

Draco coughed, "No you're not. Fix your tie, it looks like a toddler did it."

Hadrian gritted his teeth together and glared at the blond, "It's fine. Let's just go, we're going to be late."

Draco looked as though he were going to argue, but he thought better of it once he saw the threatening glint in Hadrian's eyes. He quickly rose from his chair and followed Hadrian as he stepped through the door.

"You guys go ahead, I'm going to go pick up Weasley," Blaise grinned, conjuring a dozen roses from thin air.

"I didn't know you were taking _Ronald_ to the ball," Neville snickered, earning him an annoyed look.

"You know I meant Ginevra," Blaise scowled, shaking his head as he went down the staircase to the third-year dorms.

Hadrian rolled his eyes at their childishness as he stepped into the common room.

"Where's Daphne?" Hadrian looked around, trying to see if she was somewhere in the flurry of shimmering skirts and intricate hairstyles.

"She's getting ready with Granger and Destiny in Gryffindor tower," Draco explained, quickly ushering his friend out of the door.

"Gryffindor?" Hadrian made a face, "Why would they be _there_?"

Neville shrugged, "Something about getting ready together, I don't know."

"But Daphne has a private room in the Slytherin dormitory, wouldn't it be easier to get ready here–"

"Hadrian, you're getting late to go pick up your date," Draco reminded him, "Don't worry about _my_ date."

Hadrian paused abruptly in his steps. Draco's eyes widened, and he quickly backed away in the hallway, "Uh, you know what I meant. I mean–sorry. Neville and I are getting late, we should go!" He blurted out, grabbing Neville by the shoulder and yanking him in the opposite direction. Before Hadrian had a chance to react they already disappeared around the corner.

* * *

Neville placed his hand over his heart and staggered back dramatically. "I'm the luckiest guy in this school," He declared when he saw Destiny walk out the portrait hole.

She tried to fight a smile, "Oh Merlin, could you get any cheesier?"

He pretended to think as he fastened a corsage to her wrist, "Uh, your smile is prettier than the stars that shine in the night sky?"

She laughed, "I stand corrected."

Draco rolled his eyes and held out his arm for Daphne. She looked at him expectantly and he frowned, "What?"

She crossed her arms across her chest, "Aren't you going to say I look pretty?"

"Neville wants to get some action at the end of the night and so he's piling on the compliments," Draco pointed out, "I, on the other hand, have been warned to not even hold you improperly. So, wouldn't complimenting you be a waste of time?"

She slapped his chest and he sighed, "Fine. You look fantastic, Daphne. Are you happy now?"

She glared at him and angrily grabbed the corsage from him, swatting away his hands when he offered to help fasten it on her wrist.

"Hello–Uh, where is," The voice paused and enunciated, "Her-my-own-knee?"

Draco nearly tripped in his haste to turn around. His jaw dropped open in shock, "Viktor Krum? _You're_ Granger's date?"

The quidditch star nodded with a smile, tucking a hand into his robe pocket. He wore a dark red cloak over his shoulders and a self-assured look on his face.

Draco was still frozen in surprise when Daphne shoved him aside and quickly ran up to Krum, her dress swishing excitedly around her.

"It's so nice to meet you, Viktor! My name is Daphne Greengrass, I'm one of Hermione's friends!" She shook his hand with a wide grin. "Now I know you get this a lot, but I am your biggest fan!"

Draco tuned out her enthusiastic rambling as he saw the portrait hole swing open again and he nearly lost his footing for the _second_ time that hour.

He _almost_ didn't recognize her. She'd somehow managed to smooth her hair into a sophisticated hairstyle and when she smiled shyly he noted the absence of what he very _fondly_ referred to as _beaver teeth._

She wore the periwinkle dress he'd sort of helped pick out and it suited her perfectly. As she walked closer, he noticed her heels gave her an extra few inches of height and she came up to his shoulders now.

She stopped in front of him and frowned, "Why are you looking at me like that? Do I look terrible or something?" She paused, "I don't know why I'm asking you that, of course you're going to say I look like some hag."

He shook his head, "No, you look–"

"Beautiful," Viktor Krum cut off his sentence, walking over to them with a wide smile on his face.

He felt a slight flush crawl up the back of his neck as he watched Krum _literally_ sweep her off her feet and twirl her around in lieu of a proper greeting. She giggled as she insisted he put her down immediately, and Draco turned away.

Daphne raised an eyebrow at him, a knowing expression on her face–which he promptly ignored. "Are we ready to go?" He asked gruffly, grabbing Daphne's arm.

* * *

Hadrian Riddle didn't realize _how much_ he hated balls until he was forced to lead a waltz along with the other champions while the entirety of the ballroom watched in awkward silence. Though he wasn't particularly excited about this situation, he still wrapped an arm around Padma's exposed waist and pulled her closer as he led her through the movements. At least it stopped her from rambling about something or the other for the time being.

As they sat back down at the Champions table, he eyed his date with veiled disinterest. She was definitely gorgeous, that was something even he wouldn't dispute. As a nod to her heritage, she had chosen lilac colored traditional Indian dress robes that flared out beautifully when he had twirled her around. Expensive jewels glittered in her hair when they had moved together.

Hadrian knew he was the envy of many others just by having her in his arms.

And yet, he found himself leading Padma over to where his friends were sitting, and casually dropping into the empty seat beside the blonde witch he had been stealing glances at all evening.

He lightly kicked Draco–who had been staring intently at Krum and Hermione–under the table and jerked his head toward Padma. Draco instantly understood his unspoken command and he stood up and walked toward the black-haired witch. He smiled down at her with the full charm of a Malfoy and insisted she join him for a dance.

This had prompted Krum and Hermione to join them on the dance floor, and soon it was just him and Daphne at the table. She re-adjusted her silverware and avoided his gaze.

"Daphne," He drawled, "Would you like to accompany me for a dance?"

She looked up at him with a pleasant smile, "No, I would not."

Hadrian was about to respond, but suddenly Blaise came back to the table wearing a matching grin with the redhead at his side.

"Don't drink the punch," He whispered, bringing a finger up to his lips.

"What did you do, Blaise?" Daphne asked.

"We definitely did _not_ spike the punch with the firewhisky I've been saving under my bed all year," Blaise said in a mock serious tone.

Hadrian rubbed his temples, "Why would you do that, Blaise? That was an entire bottle!"

"It wasn't an entire bottle!" He argued. He paused and amended his statement, "Well, only half a bottle. Besides, I only did it because I promised this one," He pulled Ginevra closer to his side, "A fun evening."

"In my defense, I didn't think he would actually do it," Ginevra Weasley admitted. "I told him if he could successfully pull it off, we could take a walk in the rosebushes."

"And?"

"We're just saying goodbye before we head out," Blaise smiled wickedly before grabbing her hand and dragging her out the doors.

"That was interesting," Hadrian commented. He glanced over at Daphne and held out a hand. "Don't tell me you're going to let the entire hall laugh at me if you refuse a second time," He teased.

She sighed in resignation and halfheartedly let him lead her onto the dance floor. He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her a _tad_ closer than what was socially acceptable. She avoided looking at him and Hadrian gripped her hand tighter.

"Daphne," He looked down at her with a smirk, "Did I tell you how lovely you look this evening?"

"No," She said evenly, "And even if you did, I wouldn't believe you."

"Not even if I told you how I can't tear my eyes off of you?" He stepped closer to her and whispered, "Not even if I told you all I've wanted to do all night was dance with you?"

She blinked at him, and slowly shook her head.

"Forgive me, Miss. Greengrass, but I'm afraid I'm going to have to call you a liar," He said quietly, as he twirled her around the ballroom.

"And that's where you'd be wrong, Hadrian," She said sweetly, looking up at him with dark blue eyes shrouded by incredibly long lashes. "You always _assume_ you know people."

She dug her nails into his shoulder as she whispered in his ear, "You always tell me what you _think_ I want to hear. Why don't you tell me something with genuine feeling?"

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Tell me a secret, Hadrian. Tell me something that's _real_. What are you _not_ saying? That's what I want to hear."

He cocked his head to the side, "How about this?" He paused and licked his lips, "I want to kiss you right _here_. I want to _ruin_ this pretty little hairstyle you have on and _taste_ the punch you've been drinking all night on your tongue."

Daphne's eyes widened, and she was silent for a second. "Is that all you want from me?" She asked finally.

"I don't understand–"

"What do you want from me?" She stressed, "Am I your friend? Your consult? Some kind of bitch you can call whenever you need me?"

He rolled his eyes at her, "Daphne, darling–"

"I am _not_ your 'darling'," She sneered at him. "I am _not_ your plaything. I am _not_ yours to use whenever you see fit. I am _not_ your fool." She stepped away from him and fixed him with a cold look, "I am your _equal_ , or not yours at all."

Before he could even blink, she had turned around and walked away from him, quickly moving past the double doors in the decorated great hall.

And before he knew what he was doing, he followed her. He ignored the questioning looks Draco shot him, and he quickened his pace, so he could chase after her. He exited the hall and looked around, cursing the fact that she was surprisingly fast, even in that dress of hers. He saw a glimpse of silver from the corner of his eyes and he blindly ran after it,

He found her after a few minutes of running, and he stopped abruptly. She had made her way into one of the deserted corridors and was staring out the single window that gave the otherwise dark corridor some light.

Hadrian stared at Daphne, his dark emerald eyes searching her emotionless façade for an explanation to her behavior. She seemed to avoid his piercing gaze, instead choosing to look directly at a spot above his shoulder.

"Daphne is this about the ball?" He asked curiously, leaning against the opposite stone wall.

She blinked. "I don't know what you are talking about."

Hadrian crossed his arms, eying her wearily. He sighed. "Are you still mad about Padma? I thought you knew it's only temporary." A mocking smile appeared on his aristocratic features. "I'm not going to go and fall in love with her."

Daphne flinched. Her gaze snapped back to meet his and she demanded, "Business or pleasure?"

His lips twisted into a cruel smirk. "Both, darling. Always both."

Her eyes flashed a dangerous shade of stormy blue. Impulsively, she raised her hand to slap him, but Hadrian caught her hand in a deadly grip before she could strike him.

A dark look came into his eyes. "Not today, sweetheart." He brushed his thumb over her wrist, feeling her angry pulse. His touch lingered even when he slowly released her wrist. "That's not how this works."

Daphne pushed down the frustrated scream that was threatening to slip out despite her remarkable self-control. Sighing heavily, she stepped away from him. Instantly, she appreciated the much-needed space. As she stood there in the moonlight, across from the most charming sociopath she knew, Daphne couldn't help but feel disgusted with herself.

Her feelings for anything regarding Hadrian Riddle had always been kept under lock and key, hidden in a box deep inside of her. But they existed. That very fact caused her to shudder involuntarily. He was magnetic, electric…and irrevocably dangerous. She knew what he was capable of. She'd seen it with her own eyes. And yet, she couldn't fight her desire, no matter how far she pushed it down. He was addicting, like a drug. No, Daphne corrected herself wryly, He was poisonous.

Finally, she looked up, observing Hadrian's guarded green eyes. They were empty, eerily dark. It was like a sudden shock. While she was struggling with her conflicting feelings for the past four years, he felt nothing. She was just another toy for him to order around. He would smile at her and it made her feel like the most important person in the world. He would praise her, and she would feel like she was capable of anything. Foolishly, she had tried to crush her feelings for him, but they were always present. She had fallen for his pretty words and forgotten who he was in the process. She had forgotten who she was.

No, she was Daphne Greengrass. Brought up by the best tutors the world could offer, raised in a family with millions attached to its name. She was the perfect pureblood princess: Beautiful, calculating, and cold. She wouldn't play his game anymore. She wouldn't sit idly aside and be ordered around like some Pansy-clone.

She was Daphne Greengrass. And Daphne Greengrass did as she pleased.

And if Hadrian Riddle wanted her, he'd have to _earn_ her.

"Is that so?" She murmured, smoothing down the nonexistent wrinkles on her dress. "Well, in that case, my business here is done." Daphne suppressed a triumphant smirk at the flicker of surprise that momentarily appeared through the apathetic mask he was sporting. Patting his shoulder in lieu of a proper goodbye, she gathered her shimmering skirts and turned to walk back to the end of the corridor.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Hadrian called out from his spot against the wall.

Daphne turned her head briefly to shoot him a wicked smile. "It means I'm going to search elsewhere for pleasure, Riddle."

* * *

"Why did you think it was a good idea to press me into the rosebushes, Neville?" Destiny grimaced as she picked another thorn out of her hair.

"I thought it was romantic in the moment!" He defended himself. He gently wiped the spot of blood on her shoulder, "I'm sorry."

"It's fine," She sighed, "I really should've seen it coming–"

 _"He's gone!" He shouted, running a hand through his dark hair. " I saw him die!"_

 _"No, it's not your fault, please calm down, please–"_

 _"It's over–it's all over. What have I done?"_

 _"It's not your fault–" She screamed as he threw another glass at the wall behind her. It shattered into a million pieces and she flinched. "Please stop," She begged._

 _"Don't you see? I can't. I can't stop. It's not a choice. This is my life. It's my future. There is no escape. I have nothing left."_

 _"You're better than this, it doesn't have to be this way. Please don't do this to yourself. I won't let you do this to yourself."_

 _"It's too late," He smiled sadly. "It's already too late."_

Destiny gasped, opening her eyes and finding Neville peering over her, shaking her shoulders roughly. He relaxed a bit when he saw the recognition in her eyes, but the panic still didn't fade from his expression.

"What the bloody hell was that?" He demanded to know, grabbing her waist and hauling her up from the cold, wet ground. He shrugged off his cloak and wrapped it around her, taking the time to tuck it around her chin and shoulders.

"I-I think I saw something," She whispered, looking around to make sure there was nobody near them. She ran a hand through her hair, pushing it back out of her face. "I saw something."

Neville nodded, "Well, what was it."

She froze suddenly, "Neville," She hedged, sitting on a nearby bench, "If I tell you, you cannot tell _anyone_."

He shrugged, "Who am I going to tell?"

Destiny shook her head, "Neville, I'm serious. When I tell you, you're going to want to run to someone and tell them exactly what I said. But if you do that, it will ruin everything."

His eyes widened, and he sat beside her on the bench, "What is it?"

She debated it for a moment and finally whispered it to him, knowing she couldn't carry the burden alone this time. She watched as he turned a deathly shade of white and he stood up suddenly.

He shook his head, "No-No I have to–I can't–I have to tell him!"

"Neville, what did I just tell you," She wailed, "You can't tell _anyone_!"

"Why would you tell me that?" He shouted, rubbing his forehead in frustration, "I can't see him and keep this from him! Do you know what will happen if he finds out?"

She bit her lip and nodded, "I know, Neville. But I can't risk it. I have to do this."

"He deserves to know!" Neville argued back, "Fuck, I can't believe you told me this."

"You can't, Neville, please," She begged, "It's too close. Just trust me. I'm doing this for you."

He cradled her face in his hands, "How am I supposed to trust you when you pull shit like this? Do you realize how cruel you're being right now?"

Destiny wiped her eyes, "I know, but I have to do it, Neville. This isn't _right_."

He looked at her with an icy glare, "Destiny, you can't keep this to yourself. I won't tell, but you have to. Promise me you will."

She shook her head vehemently, "No. I won't do it," She pulled out her wand, "And neither will you."

He looked at the wand that was pointed at him and locked eyes with her, "You wouldn't."

"I will," She promised, looking back at him with an unwavering fierceness.

He smiled sadly, "I wish you were lying," He turned to walk away from her and shook his head, "Don't say I didn't warn you, Destiny. I won't tell anyone. But think about what you are doing. Think about what you're asking me to do."

* * *

When Hadrian made his way back to the ballroom to collect his _actual_ date, he was surprised to see her in a certain inebriated state. He looked at Draco and sighed, "Did you let her drink the punch?"

Draco nodded, "Why? Was there something wrong with it?"

"Oh, nothing other than the fact that Blaise and the Weasley girl spiked it with nearly half a bottle of firewhisky," Hadrian spit out. "Remind me to deal with him tomorrow."

"That would explain Granger's behavior," Draco said, looking over at where the mentioned girl was giggling at a rather puzzled Krum.

Hadrian groaned, "I don't have time for this right now," He looked over at Hermione, "How much of the punch did you have?"

She shrugged, "I don't know, a cup or two?"

Draco snorted, "Lightweight."

Hadrian rolled his eyes, "Draco, escort her back to her dormitory," Sensing both Draco, Hermione, _and_ Krum were about to protest, he hurried to add, "The castle is dark and confusing at night. This would be for the best."

He coerced Padma out of her chair, "Come on, Padma, let's get you back to your room."

Before he left the hall, he looked at Draco with a frown, "Make sure Granger gets back without a scratch."

* * *

"I am not some security escort service," Draco frowned as he pushed past the double doors that led outside.

Hermione nodded in agreement, "I don't know what Hadrian is thinking. If I wanted security I would've asked Blaise."

Draco looked offended at that, "What? I am perfectly capable of escorting you. Why do you need Blaise?"

"Couldn't we have gone through the castle instead of trekking through the snow?" Hermione demanded instead, "I'm cold."

"For Merlin's sake, Granger! I can't control the weather," He spit out. "Maybe you should've worn something other than that slip of a dress," He muttered under his breath.

She rolled her eyes and continued walking ahead. Suddenly she felt something heavy and warm around her shoulders and she glanced up at the cloak Malfoy had half-tossed over her.

He avoided her inquisitive gaze, "If you freeze to death, I'm going to get blamed and I'd rather not be on the other end of Hadrian's curse."

"Hadrian this and Hadrian that," Hermione laughed, swaying slightly in her steps, "Do you ever do anything that Hadrian _doesn't_ explicitly tell you to do? Ever disobey his 'orders'?"

"Granger," Draco's lips twisted into something akin to a smile, "Is this your way of goading me to kill you? Hadrian explicitly told me not to lay a finger on you, but if you want me to go against his wishes so badly…" He trailed off.

Hermione narrowed her eyes, "I don't need your snark. I have a date and he would _love_ to escort me back to my dorm. I don't need you."

Draco raised an eyebrow, "Ah yes, of course. The famous Viktor Krum. I can see exactly how much he would love to escort you to your dormitory in this state," He gestured to her slightly inebriated form. "Though he might have forgotten and simply taken you to his room instead. Where is he staying again?"

He obviously meant it sarcastically, seeing as they could both see the massive outline of the Durmstrang ship as it bobbed slightly on the waters of the Black Lake.

"I'm not sure what you're implying Malfoy," Hermione frowned, "But I don't want to hear any more of your silly dribble."

"Allow me to be frank with you then, Granger," Draco smiled, baring his sharp white teeth, "One, Krum is too old for you. Two, he's Hadrian's competition. And three, he just wants to get you absolutely sloshed so he can get into your knickers."

Hermione huffed, "What I choose to do with my life is _none_ of your business, Malfoy! And for your information, Hadrian and Viktor get along just fine enough!"

"Oh so, he's Viktor now?" Draco sneered, "Tell me something, why did you even agree to go with him, don't you hate quidditch?"

Hermione faltered at the sudden change of subject, "Well, he asked me. So I said yes."

"So, you'll just say yes to anyone that asks you to the ball?"

"No, I'll say yes to the _first_ person that asks me to the ball because that's how this date system works!" Hermione snapped, "That's how you ended up going with Daphne, isn't it?"

Draco scowled, "No, I went with Daphne because Hadrian demanded that I take her."

"Well, who would you have taken if you had a choice?" Hermione asked, glancing up at him through her lashes.

Draco glanced away abruptly, the tips of his ears turning red. For some reason, Hermione didn't think it was from the cold.

"No one in particular," He finally bit out.

"Who is it?" She whined, turning around to face him and starting to walk backwards.

"I'm not discussing this with you, Granger." He muttered under his breath.

"Hermione." She said, in a matter-of-fact tone.

Draco raised an eyebrow, "What?"

"That's my name. You should call me by my name since I've known you for almost four years, even if you were–are – a right prat," She pointed out.

He smirked, "Fine, then. You can continue calling me "Your Majesty."

Hermione crossed her arms, "Okay, _Draco_. Such an odd name, by the way."

Draco inhaled sharply at the sound of his name coming from her. He couldn't recall a time she'd used his name before and the effect was strangely appealing to him. Suddenly he frowned as her words registered, "You're one to talk, _Hermione_. My name is that of a constellation, as per the Black family tradition."

Hermione pointed a finger at him, "Don't try to distract me! You still haven't told me who you wanted to ask!" A teasing smile curved at her lips and she asked, "Is it Pansy?"

Draco shuddered, "Merlin no. I wouldn't take her even if someone imperioused me to."

He sighed and looked down at her, "You are way too comfortable with me when you are drunk."

"And you are too–ah!" She shrieked, slipping on an icy patch of grass and losing her balance.

In a blink of an eye, Draco lunged forward and grabbed her arm before she fell backwards into the pile of snow, tugging her back until she crashed into his chest and bounced back slightly at the abrupt contact.

"Granger!" He barked, "Can't you watch where you're going, or do your beaver teeth block your vision too?"

She immediately put her hands on her hips, "I don't need your help! I would've been fine; it's just a bit of snow! It's not like I fell into the lake."

"I am this close to throwing you into the lake myself!" He hissed, putting an arm around her waist to steady her swaying form. "I am going to _kill_ Blaise for spiking the punch."

"You don't have to be so rude about it," Hermione mumbled, looking up at him. He'd grown taller than her over the summer, and now she barely reached his shoulders. She squinted her eyes at him, "Did your head get pointier?"

"I don't know, Granger," He deadpanned. He cocked his head to the side, "By the way, did you have to buy an extra ticket on the train for your hair this year, since it's gotten so big?"

Hermione glared at him, crossing her arms across her chest.

"Really, how _do_ you get that mop under control? It could swallow a whole first year at this point."

She sputtered, her jaw opening and closing in shock. "At least I'm not paler than a Yeti!"

Draco sniffed, "With that hair, you _are_ a Yeti."

She gasped, her eyes coloring with outrage, "Just because you're a byproduct of generations of inbreeding doesn't mean you can let it all affect your mental capabilities, you monumental prat! I can't believe you–No wait, I can believe it! You're an arsehole…"

She continued on with her rant but Draco tuned her out.

He glanced down at her face; her big brown doe eyes were practically alight with rage and her curls crackled with magic as they escaped her intricate hairstyle. There was a light splattering of freckles that dusted across her nose attractively, something he'd never noticed before. He dropped his gaze past her flushed cheeks and fixated on her lips as she rattled out a string of curses, calling him every name in the book.

"And just because you're a pompous pureblood prince doesn't allow you to yell at me, you ignorant troll! Who the hell gave you the right to say those things to me? How _dare_ you–"

Before he knew what he was doing, Draco pulled her small body against him and lowered his head down, covering her lips with his own. He was rather surprised at the warm feeling that spread in his chest the second he touched her. Hermione squeaked as he slowly wrapped his arms around her waist, tugging her closer.

Draco deepened the kiss, pressing his mouth harder against hers. He was beyond shocked when she hesitantly moved her lips, kissing him back. He could taste the slight trace of firewhisky on her tongue and he let one of his hands wander into her hair, pulling her flush against him.

Suddenly, her eyes snapped open in shock and she hastily pushed him away. He stumbled back, a confused look on his face.

Hermione stared at him for a few seconds as he panted lightly and ran a hand through his hair. Then, she slapped him.

"Ow," Draco scowled, cupping his quickly reddening cheek, snapping out of his bewildered state, "What was that for?"

"You–You pervert!" Hermione shrieked, "The nerve! I can't believe you just did that! The sheer gall!"

An intense look appeared in her eyes as she grabbed the silk cravat immaculately tied around his neck. Her eyes were flashing with an emotion so strong as she yanked him closer. "Do it again," She demanded.

Draco frowned, "Are you going to slap me after?"

Hermione shrugged, "Only one way to find out."


	18. Friendship

**A/N: Yeah I know, it's late. But I recently moved back on campus and I'm still adjusting to this ridiculous schedule I thought I could handle (spoiler alert: I'm dumb and I can't handle it). I'm trying to wrap up fourth year in the next two chapters so we can get to the next 3 years ASAP (since that's where things really differ from the books and get real exciting). Hope you like this chapter, and again sorry it's late!**

 **Review and favorite please! Special shoutout to my favorite guest reviewer for reviewing everyday, you're still the best!**

 **Enjoy!**

 **Slytherin Dormitory [January 2nd]**

"These really are lovely," Astoria Greengrass commented, delicately touching the roses that had been carelessly tossed on her friend's bed. Her blue-green eyes fixated on the white cardstock tag that was casually strung around the flowers and she gasped.

"Ginevra!" She began in a scolding tone, "Did you even read the tag?"

The redheaded girl rolled her eyes, flipping through a page in her Witch Weekly magazine with disinterest. "No, I did not read the tag," She snorted, as if the mere notion was ridiculous.

Astoria shook her head in disapproval and plucked the tag from its ribbon, starting to read what it said.

"Hey, that's private!" Ginevra Weasley quickly said, lunging for the note that was in her friend's hand.

"You said you didn't read it," Astoria taunted, holding the note as far away from Ginevra's reach as she could. She cleared her throat and began to read aloud, " _Dear Ginevra, I hope this isn't too forward of me, but I would like if you would accompany me to Hogsmeade this weekend. I greatly enjoyed having you as my date to the Yule Ball, and I would love to be given the chance to do it again. Sincerely yours, Blaise Zabi_ –"

Ginevra yanked the note out of her friend's hand and glared as harshly as she could, all the while trying to hide the blush on her cheeks. She turned around and tucked the note into her desk, closing the drawer with a final resounding thud.

"He likes you," Astoria remarked, rolling over on the bed to stare at the ceiling. "I've known him since I was a little girl and I've never seen him like this."

Ginevra smoothed down her hair and shook her head, "I'm not interested. I only agreed to be his date because I wanted to attend that wretched ball. It happened, and now it's over. It was a business agreement. He wanted arm candy, and I wanted leverage over the other third years."

Her friend scrutinized her for a second and then pointed an accusing finger at her, "You're lying." She ignored the offended look on Ginevra's face and jumped up from the bed with a wide smile, "You like him just as much as he likes you. Business agreement, my foot."

"Astoria, please," Ginevra sighed rubbing her temples in exasperation, "It's not like that."

There was a sudden knock on her door and she rushed towards it, desperate to end the conversation. She made a shushing motion at her best friend as she opened the door. Unfortunately, the fates were not on her side.

"Hello Weasley," Blaise Zabini looked down at her, leaning against her doorway with a charming smile. "I haven't heard from you in a while."

"I've been busy. There's a lot of homework in third year, I'm sure you remember," She stepped back a bit and tried to inch the door shut as subtly as possible.

"Well, I'm sure you're certainly not too busy to go to Hogsmeade this weekend," He looked past her head and smirked, "I see you got the flowers–Oh, hello Astoria."

The brunette waved sheepishly and quickly walked over to the desk to grab her bag, "I'll just head out now, sorry about the interruption."

Ginevra blinked, and held up a hand to stop her friend's movements. She looked at Blaise with impassive eyes, "Actually, Zabini was just leaving."

The older boy glanced at her in confusion, "What?"

"I have that potions exam that Snape gives all his third years coming up on Monday, so I really must study. It's been nice talking to you, Zabini, but I have to go," She began to shut the door on him, but suddenly his arm shot out and held it back.

"What is this about, Weasley?" He asked her quietly. "Did you not like the flowers? I can send you chocolates or jewelry if you prefer those."

Ginevra closed her eyes for a brief second, counting to ten in her head. She took a deep breath and opened them again, fixing Blaise Zabini with a cold stare. "Look, Zabini. I tried to let you down easy, but you're so pathetic that you can't understand the countless hints I've dropped, so it seems I'm going to have to be a bit rude. I _do not like you_. I _do not want to spend time with you_. You were just a ticket to the Yule Ball for me. So, I'd really appreciate if you could just move on to your next little conquest, because I have no interest in being one. Thank you, and good day."

She slammed the door shut but continued to stare at it for a couple seconds. She could still hear him from her side and she waited until she heard his retreating footsteps before turning back to face her stunned friend.

"What the bloody hell was that?" Astoria demanded to know, "That was cruel, Gin."

Ginevra sighed, looking at the all-too-expensive black silk dress that hung in her open wardrobe. Compared to her drab skirts and hand-me-down jumpers, the magnificent gown stuck out like a sore thumb. She ignored her friend and walked over to it, gently taking it down and holding it under her arm. She knelt down in front of her rusty trunk and began to fold the dress, making sure it didn't crease or wrinkle.

"Ginevra, answer the question! Why would you do that?" Astoria asked again, moving to face her friend. "That was uncalled for."

Ginevra pretended not to hear her as she opened her trunk and began to take what little belongings she had out of it. Once her trunk was nearly empty, she carefully placed the dress inside and began to return all her things to the trunk. She shut the lid and latched it as best she could, considering one of the latches was broken.

"Gin, why did you lie to him?" Astoria asked again, refusing to relent. "I'm not going to stop bothering you, so would you just answer the damn–"

"Because I don't want to be bought," Ginevra snapped. She grabbed the roses from her bed and threw them in the wastebasket by her door. "I don't want to be some kind of trophy to display."

"What are you talking about?" Her friend raised an eyebrow, genuinely confused. "He bought you flowers, that's _normal_ when someone is trying to court you."

"He also bought me two dresses, two pairs of shoes, a necklace, a pair of earrings to match the necklace and–" She paused, "Tell me that's not a bit much."

Astoria bit her lip, "I suppose that _is_ excessive, but you know the old pureblood ways. Remember when Hadrian Riddle was courting my sister? He bought her some gorgeous sapphire trinket before he even made a move. It's just old money. They're not trying to _buy_ you."

Ginevra crossed her arms, "You don't understand, Astoria. I'm not from your world. I don't go to fancy parties every season–fuck, I didn't even know there were seasons for social activity until I came to the last Malfoy ball. In case you haven't noticed, my family isn't well off like yours."

"I don't see what that has to do with anything."

"It's just different! You expect these gifts because anything less would seem disrespectful. But for me–Astoria, I haven't seen this kind of opulence and wealth in my entire life. I-I-I feel _obligated_ now to do things because he bought me a dress that cost more than my family's entire house. I let him kiss me in the gardens because I felt guilty telling him no after he'd bought me such expensive earrings. I–I can't keep living like that!"

Astoria frowned, "You could've told him no. He would've stopped."

"You don't know that. He could easily use me and toss me aside like all those other tarts he's been with. He doesn't want to date me. He wants to display me. I'm just like another racing broom he can show off to his mates."

"Gin, he isn't like that," Astoria began cautiously, "It's just the world we grew up in. You don't have to feel obligated to do anything! It's _just_ a gift. No strings attached."

"There aren't any strings attached for you because you aren't a low-class blood traitor," Ginevra sneered. "You're _Lady Greengrass_. People treat you like a princess just because of your title. But for me, oh no, every little present or gift is just a way to show that someone else has power over me. Well, I will not be bought. _That's_ why it had to end now."

"I understand where you're coming from," Her friend looked at her sadly, "But I also think you are making a huge mistake. This isn't a ploy, Gin. Not everything is about power."

"That's where you're wrong," Ginevra said with unfocused eyes, "Everything is _always_ about power."

 **Abandoned Classroom [January 5th]**

At first, Hadrian Riddle was amused by Daphne's antics.

She had taken to regarding him with a cool indifference, and suddenly there was a certain distance between them that had never been present before. But he knew exactly how much she depended on him, and he was well aware of how she tried to fight her attraction to him. He knew she'd be back soon.

After a week had passed, he was not as amused.

Instead of coming back to him- repentant- like he had expected, Daphne was even more distant than before. He had seen her around a couple studious Ravenclaws and some girls from Beuaxbatons during one of his numerous trips to the library, but he hadn't given it much thought.

That is, until she deliberately missed one of their planned project meetings to meet up with one of her _friends_.

He had given her a dark warning, laced with several threats if she decided to ever skip a meeting without informing him again. He expected the threatening would correct her rebellious behavior, but yet, she was late _again._

Hadrian drummed his fingers on his desk, debating what to do when the door opened. He straightened up as he saw Daphne sauntering inside the classroom. He was about to inform her of her tardiness, when a tall boy came strolling in behind her, laughing at something she had said. He was holding her bag.

"Well, at least you showed up before I managed to finish the entirety of the project myself," His voice carried across the otherwise empty room.

"Sorry, Hadrian." She apologized. "I wouldn't have been late if it hadn't been for _someone_ spilling my ink all over the table." She shot an accusing look at the boy.

"I apologize." He smiled. "My name is Ivan Stransky, by the way." He offered a hand to Hadrian. "I'm one of the students from Durmstrang."

Hadrian stared at the offending, ink-stained body part. Slowly, Ivan retracted his hand when he realized Hadrian had no intention of shaking it.

"So how do you know Daphne?" Ivan asked hesitantly, looking anywhere but at Hadrian.

"I'm her–" Hadrian began to say.

"He's just my housemate." Daphne cut him off sweetly.

Hadrian narrowed his eyes and he turned to the boy with a cold look, "You look well, Stransky. Daphne mentioned you had a terrible accident just last week."

Ivan smiled, "Yes, but I did recover rather quickly thanks to the Hogwarts mediwitch. Between her and Daphne, I was back to normal within the week!"

"What do you mean?" Hadrian asked, looking at Daphne curiously.

"Well, I'm sure you know how Daphne has decided to train under Madam Pomfrey this term–"

"No," Hadrian spoke slowly, shooting her an accusing look, "I did not know that."

There was an awkward beat of silence before Ivan spoke again, albeit more uneasily, "Anyways, she was always in the hospital wing while I was recovering–personally I believe she made so many trips just to see me."

Daphne laughed and slapped his shoulder playfully, "You _are_ my boyfriend. I shouldn't need an excuse to see you."

Hadrian felt his jaw clench and he turned back to his work without a word.

The Bulgarian glanced between the two and back at the door. "I should be going." He said uncomfortably, placing Daphne's bag on a chair. "I will be seeing you later, yes?"

Daphne watched him go with a fond smile on her face, and then turned back around to Hadrian. She flinched at the murderous scowl he directed at her. "What?" She muttered defensively.

"Let's just start this essay." He replied, darkly staring at the blank piece of parchment in front of him.

"Oh!" Daphne drummed her fingers against the table, "That reminds me. You know how you said to inform you of my future absences to meetings?"

He stared at her expectantly, waiting for her to continue.

"I won't be able to make next week's meeting."

Hadrian arched an eyebrow. "No."

"What do you mean, 'No'? " She demanded, fixing him with an irate glare.

"You've already missed our meeting last week," He pointed out crossly. "I don't plan on doing all the work myself."

She rolled her eyes up to the ceiling, "Why did I know you would say that. For your information, I'll be out helping _you_ with _your_ research for _your_ father. Ivan lent me a book which could contain some helpful information, but it's in Bulgarian."

"Let me guess, he's going to help you translate."

Daphne shrugged, "Well, unless you speak Bulgarian," She smiled innocently, "Would you like for me to share it with you?"

His jaw ticked. "That won't be necessary."

They worked in absolute, suffocating silence for the rest of the hour. He kept thinking that she would say something to him, but she never did. Daphne kept her eyes glued to her side of the desk and refused to even look at him.

When the hour was up, they began to pack up their things, both avoiding eye contact with each other. Daphne slung her bag over her shoulder and smiled at him, "I'll see you in two weeks then. Have fun with Padma," She paused, just as she was about to step out the door. "Oh, and Hadrian?"

Hadrian glanced up immediately, "Yes?"

Daphne smirked, "Your tie needs to be fixed."

* * *

"Do we have any other information?" Daphne questioned, pacing in front of the couch.

"Not that I know of," Draco sighed, leaning back in his armchair. "We're running out of time. The second task is in a week."

"Destiny? Do you have anything new?" Daphne asked as she flipped through the pages in her hands. When she didn't respond, Daphne looked up to see the girl staring off into space, a with a glazed look in her eyes. She gestured to Hermione, who was sitting beside her, and the curly haired witch nudged Destiny in the side.

"What? Oh, sorry," Destiny laughed uneasily. "What was the question?"

"Did you find anything new about the second task?" Daphne repeated.

Destiny shook her head, "No, I can't see anything. It keeps changing too quickly for me to find a solid timeline. I just get stuck on the same vision and I can't see any further than that."

"Well, what do you see?" Hermione piped up, "Maybe it's important."

"It's nothing of use," Destiny shrugged. "It's not even something I can see. It's dark and everything is murky. It's more of the feeling associated with it. I feel like I'm suffocating. I can't breathe."

"Like you're drowning," Blaise spoke from the side, stepping into view. "Sorry I'm late, I ran into Hadrian earlier and had to come up with some kind of excuse."

"Yes," Destiny drawled slowly, "Exactly like I'm drowning. How did you know?"

"I just had a talk with a certain Mr. Cedric Diggory," Blaise smirked, "And he was willing to give out some _crucial_ information about the second task."

"Are you sure he isn't lying?" Neville pointed out, speaking for the first time that meeting. "Why would he tell you anything? He knows you'll go straight to Hadrian."

"Exactly," Blaise nodded.

"I'm sorry, I don't follow," Hermione spoke up. "Why would Cedric tell you anything of value?"

Blaise rolled his eyes, "Because he's a Hufflepuff."

"That doesn't mean he's a hundred percent daft!" Hermione argued back.

"Calm down, darling," He almost purred, squeezing himself into the small couch space left beside the witch. "I didn't just march right up and ask him. Give me some credit."

Hermione reluctantly moved over, allowing him to sit more comfortably. He lazily tossed an arm around her and grinned, "I played that idiot like a fool."

Draco suddenly narrowed his eyes at the Italian boy, "Stop building up the suspense, Zabini and just tell us already."

Blaise shrugged, "It wasn't a master plan or anything. I just pretended to be extremely stressed out and might have faked a panic attack in front of the bloke, so he'd try to talk to me first. Then I pretended to blurt out some long story about how I'm ill with grief and my concern for Hadrian. Told him how Hadrian's going mad trying to deal with everything–which technically isn't a lie–and how it's so unfair that a fourth year has to go against all the other of age champions."

Hermione blinked at him. "T-That's... actually rather brilliant," She breathed, "How did you ever come up with this?"

He tugged playfully on one of her curls, "It was a spur of the moment kind of thing. Which is also why it didn't seem too staged. The poor sod spilled everything he knew as soon as he saw me crack a tear."

"You cried?" Draco scoffed, "Are you serious? This isn't some soap opera. Diggory probably thinks you're in love with Hadrian or something."

"It seemed to work, didn't it?" He shot back.

"What did he say?" Daphne quickly cut in before the two could argue about the manliness of crying.

"The egg has to be opened _underwater_ ," Blaise explained. "That's when it stops screeching and gives some kind of riddle," He paused for a second and chuckled to himself, "Ha, get it? Riddle? Hadrian Riddle?"

"That was dreadful," Neville said flatly, "But awful jokes aside, what else did Diggory say?"

"He said the task has something to do with water," Blaise revealed, "He didn't say much about it, just that if I wanted to help, I'd make sure 'my friend knew how to swim'."

Daphne thought it over for a few minutes, "I think we need to get that egg."

Draco snorted, "That's not happening. I know Hadrian keeps it close at all times. When it's not with him, it's in his _warded_ room."

"I'm sorry, I have to say it–" Hermione looked around the room, "Why are we helping him? Last time he didn't use anything we gave him. On top of that, he made it clear that he doesn't want our help."

"Because whatever petty thing he's done this year aside, he's still our friend," Draco sighed. "He's under a lot of pressure this year and it's getting to him. Sooner or later, he's going to break or go insane. It's inevitable."

She frowned suspiciously, "What do you mean under a lot of pressure?"

Though everyone in the room barely reacted to her question, Hermione had known them long enough to zero in immediately on their nervous twitches. Destiny fiddled with her bracelet. Neville fixed his shirt. Daphne tucked a piece of hair behind her ear.

"Is someone going to answer my question? I know at least one of you, if not all of you, knows the answer."

"It's not important," Draco began, "Hadrian is just–"

"Doing some work with Lord Malfoy and the Ministry," Daphne cut in. "He's–"

"Helping them go through some dark texts to see which spells should remain illegal," Blaise finished lamely.

"Let me get this straight," Hermione raised an eyebrow, "Hadrian is doing some top-secret research that involves the Ministry and the legality of dark curses? And they recruited a fourteen-year-old for this?"

"Yes," They all chorused.

"For a group of Slytherins, you all are terrible liars," Hermione remarked. "Are you going to tell me the truth now?"

"That is the truth," Daphne hurried to say, "It's not like he was recruited. Lord Malfoy just knew Hadrian was interested in the subject and allowed him to be a sort of assistant on the project."

Draco tried to stifle his laugh at the thought of Hadrian being an assistant to _anyone_.

"I think if we want to make him use the guide, we shouldn't present it to him personally," Neville mused, hurrying to change the subject. "Why don't we just leave it under his door or something?"

Daphne folded her arms across her chest thoughtfully. "That could work," She murmured. "At least he'll look at it for a minute or two before he throws it away."

"So, then we should just put all the most important information we know on the first page," Blaise suggested. "It's a greater chance that he'll see it."

"We don't _know_ much though," Destiny pointed out, "All we know is the task has to do with water. And possibly drowning."

Hermione raised an eyebrow, "They couldn't possibly allow a student to die for this stupid tournament, right?"

Daphne pursed her lips, "Most likely not. I don't want to think about that. Neville, how is your task coming along?"

Neville sighed, "Cedric is a bit of a problem. Hadrian is popular, yes, but Diggory is the golden boy. Right now, the vote seems to be split by age. All the younger years support Hadrian because they see him as a bit of an underdog, if you can believe that. But all the fifth years and above support Diggory because they know him better. And until Diggory does something to tarnish his reputation as some self-sacrificing hero, we won't be able to shift the support to Hadrian."

Daphne smirked, "So we'll just have to make sure his Saint-like reputation takes a hit, won't we?"

Neville caught the dark look that passed through her eyes and groaned, "Fine, I'll come up with something."

She smiled, "Perfect. I think we should adjourn for today, then. Hopefully we can try to come up with something more concrete tomorrow."

There were a couple mumbles of agreement in response and everyone began to pack up their things.

"I'm going to stay to read for a bit," Hermione announced, picking out a book from her bag. She murmured her goodbyes as her friends started to pack up around her. She tuned out everything and everyone as she focused on her reading, flipping through the pages as she tried to find anything that could help them for the second task.

She was so absorbed with her research that she nearly dropped her book when she heard a throat clear in front of her. Slowly, she raised her eyes to face the person in front of her.

"You've been avoiding me," Draco Malfoy spoke accusingly, narrowing his grey eyes at her.

"Clearly, it hasn't been working all that well then," She sighed, setting down her book. "What do you want, Malfoy?"

"Why are you avoiding me?"

"Because that's what people do when they're in awkward situations!" She gritted her teeth, "Look, I haven't told anyone about that night. I don't really want to ruin _my_ image–"

" _Your_ image?" He repeated incredulously, "What about _mine?_ I'm the one who actually has something to lose."

She rolled her eyes, "I'm just going to pretend that wasn't offensive in so many different ways. My point is, if we don't tell anyone then it never happened. Does your pea-sized brain follow?"

He frowned, "You want to forget this?"

She smiled brightly, "Good, I was afraid you wouldn't understand."

"I _don't_ understand, actually," He paused, "Is this because you like Blaise?"

Hermione blinked, "Where did you get that from everything I said?"

He shrugged in a manner of forced nonchalance, "He's only been flirting with you since you stepped into Hogwarts first year, so I suppose it makes sense. I just thought you, being such a know-it-all, could see through his fake charm."

She took a deep breath, "Let me get this straight. You think I'm telling you to forget what happened because I'm in love with _Blaise?_ "

"Is that not what–"

"No!" She hissed, "I'm telling you to forget about it because a) I was intoxicated and b) I don't even like you! In case you haven't noticed, you're kind of an arse!"

His lip twitched, "Only kind of?"

Hermione hugged her book closer to her chest and frowned, "Why did you even do it? You don't like me, we're barely even friends."

Draco crossed his arms, "So now you have to be friends with someone in order to snog them?"

She nodded firmly, "Yes."

"And apparently we're not friends?"

Hermione stood up from the couch and sighed, "Look, Malfoy. Friends enjoy each other's company, all we do is argue."

He smirked, "Don't tell me you don't enjoy our witty banter. I bet you look forward to hurling insults at me every morning."

She bit her lip, "That's beside the point. Friends also know everything about each other."

He shrugged, "Fine, I'll admit I don't know _everything_ about you, but after all these years I have picked up on a few things."

She scoffed.

"Don't sound so disbelieving, Granger," He sneered, "I know you like your tea black, no sugar– "

She squinted at him suspiciously, "How did you know that?"

He rolled his eyes, "You threw it at me that one time, remember?" He pointed a finger at her accusingly, "Try not to look _too_ pleased with yourself. Oh, that's another thing. Whenever you insult me or anyone else for that matter, you get this little half smirk on your face."

She tried to wipe the smug look off her face immediately, "I do _not_!"

"You're literally doing it right now," He remarked casually, "And when you answer a question in class, you're always way too obnoxious about it _but_ here's something I bet nobody else knows. When you _don't_ know the answer to a question, you frantically pretend to write notes, so the professor won't call on you."

She flushed, "I don't do that all the time!"

Draco shook his head, "Now you're just lying. Speaking of which, you pretend to hate it when Hadrian hands you a new book on dark curses, but secretly I know you _love_ having new reading material."

She stepped towards him with an annoyed look on her face, "That one doesn't count, everyone knows I love to read."

He cocked his head to the side, "Alright, but does everyone know that when you're afraid of something–truly afraid–you freeze?"

Hermione stilled, "I-That was a one-time thing!"

Draco nodded, "I know it was, but you were still scared shitless. And after some thoughtful reflection, I realized you weren't really afraid of the Death Eaters, you were afraid that nothing in your reading or studies prepared you to deal with them. When it came down to it, you couldn't apply what you'd learned."

"I don't want to talk about this anymore," She muttered, hurrying to step around him.

He grabbed her wrist, effectively stopping her in place. "We might not be friends, Granger, but I know a lot more about you than you think."

She tried to wriggle out of his grasp, but he just pulled her closer and whispered, "For example, I know that despite everything, despite all the hatred you think exists between us, you _still_ want to kiss me."

She paused for a second and blinked at him slowly. Then, she tossed her book back onto the couch and grabbed the edges of his robes, looking up at him with an angry look in her eyes.

"Are you just going to stand there and _tell_ me how well you know me or are you actually going to show me?" She hissed at him. Before he could even _think_ about responding, she had angrily captured his lips with her own, ignoring the way his lips molded into a smirk against hers.

"For the record, I still hate you and you're _still_ an arse," She breathed as he skimmed his nose alongside her jawline.

"I can live with that," He shrugged.

 **Riddle Manor [January 11th]**

Lucius Malfoy surveyed the group Death Eaters sitting at the table in front of him arguing like a pack of bloody animals. They had barely gotten through the general information and the plans for the upcoming raid before descending into absolute chaos. This was the so called "inner circle". He suppressed the need to curl his lip in disgust.

Towards the end of the table sat a member of the Light, who was also one of his wife's cousins, Sirius Black. Why they had let that traitor into their ranks, he did not know. It was inevitable the blood traitor would betray them someday, he just didn't know when.

 _Or perhaps he already had_ , Lucius mused to himself.

Toward the middle of the table sat a bunch of Death Eaters he could barely name, and if he were completely honest, he had no idea who had let them in through the door. The Dark Lord had made some questionable decisions in the past, but this blasphemous creation of the inner circle was definitely one of the more alarming choices.

His gaze swept back up the table, landing on the curly haired witch who sat across from him. Surprisingly, Bellatrix Lestrange was one of the few people he actually approved of to join the inner circle. She was sitting rigidly in her chair–just as she had done for the past few meetings where the Dark Lord was absent–and her eyes darted around in obvious paranoia.

He rolled his eyes, eager to get the meeting over with as fast as he could. He wasn't sure how much longer they could hold up this charade.

Lucius cleared his throat, "I hereby call this meeting to order. Please wait to express your concerns till the end. Now, where was I? Ah yes, the Dark Lord will not be joining us for the next few weeks, as he is away on business– "

"Again?" Someone called from the other end of the table.

Lucius narrowed his eyes at the man who had spoken out of turn.

"Davis," Bellatrix hissed, "It is not within your rights to question the Dark Lord. He has more pressing matters to attend to than listening to you whine about not understanding the new plans for the raid, _again_."

The Death Eater slammed his fist onto the table in annoyance, "It bloody well is within my rights. How do we even know if Malfoy here is telling us the correct orders?"

Lucius resisted the urge to throttle the man where he stood. Instead, he took a deep breath and spoke plainly, "I do not care whether or not you believe I am issuing the correct orders. If you dare to defy the Dark Lord, do so at your own peril."

"We haven't seen the Dark Lord in weeks," Another Death Eater pointed out nervously, "It is perfectly rational to question his well-being."

"Shut it, Jones," Bellatrix barked, "You don't have the clearance to be involved in these decisions. Keep your head down and just follow directions like the little mutt you are."

Instantly the table was in uproar and Lucius groaned inaudibly. He wasn't sure if Bellatrix was helping him or making things ten times more difficult for him in the long run.

Despite everything, however, he knew these lower level Death Eaters still had a point. There was only so long the _true_ inner circle could keep this elaborate lie up. The Dark Lord wasn't in any condition to even sit up by himself, let alone lead an entire room of bloodthirsty men. Eventually the rest of the group would catch on that something was wrong.

They couldn't afford to have any kind of coup, not right now. He didn't even want to step in as de facto leader while his lord was recovering. The only reason he'd agreed to the plan was because the alternative was to leave Bellatrix in charge of the entire dark side. He shivered involuntarily at _that_ idea.

His only other option was to let Hadrian lead their forces, since he technically was the heir of the Dark Lord. But given the boy's current mental condition, and the fact that he was still only _fourteen_ _fucking years_ old, he didn't think that would be the best decision.

Lucius snapped back to reality when he saw a glass being hurled past his head. His eyes darkened, and he stood up from his chair and snapped, "Everyone calm down. Bellatrix, drop the knife." When she refused to move, he added on an insistent, " _Please_."

Reluctantly, the dark witch dropped the knife she had pinned to the lower Death Eater's throat and held up her hands innocently. Even though he had stopped her before she did any irreversible bodily harm, she still had managed to nick the man slightly.

When she stepped away, Jones gasped and quickly pressed his hands against his neck, trying to slow down the blood that was trickling out of the cut.

Lucius frowned, "Now that we have that out of the way, I have to say that I apologize I cannot provide you with any further explanations at the moment. The Dark Lord and I are working very hard on a project to secure our victory in the future. Though he cannot be here today, I promise he is still very much involved in our cause."

"When will he be here again?"

Lucius shrugged, "I cannot say for sure. Hopefully soon. Next question?"

"What is the project that the Dark Lord is working on?"

"I cannot tell you the details, but we're trying to create a new potion," Lucius revealed.

As the questions continued on, Lucius quickly realized another thing. Though he might be able to control the masses from time to time, there was no way he could actually _lead_ a group this large. The Malfoys were always the advisors to the best. Never actually the ones with the true power.

Had he been younger, that thought might've caused him some distress. But as he surveyed the room again, trying his best not to physically curse some people at their idiotic questions, he discovered that he didn't _want_ to deal with the hassle of leading them. He was perfectly content with advising the Dark Lord. He didn't want to worry about the execution of all these plans.

That was Hadrian Riddle's job now.


End file.
